A Cajun Vacation
by squeekness
Summary: Remy needs a break and takes one, but even in the Big Easy, not everything is as it seems. Part 20 of my Kimble series.
1. Chapter 1

Summary :Remy needs a break and takes one, but even in the Big Easy, not everything is as it seems. Part 20 of my Kimble series.

Notes : Rated M for language, violence, and sexual situations.

AU but only because I chose to change a few things in my dear friends' histories for simplification, nothing drastic so please forgive. I've been working on this story for years so I do ask that you don't use any of my non-Marvel universe characters without my permission. I love my Siskans as I do my children.

Art for Channeler Rising has been uploaded to my website of anyone is interested in looking at it.

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(One)

Kimble packed his Master's clothes, unhappy. The past few days had been so very nice, just lazing around the cabin here. Now it was time to go back to the City, his Master had work to do. The thought of his Master working made him nervous, those were often days he had to wash blood from Victor's clothing, not a pleasant chore. Creed had assured him this job was a simple kidnapping, there should be no blood letting at all...assuming the ransom money came in. Kimble wasn't thrilled with the idea of kidnapping anyone, he knew his Master was brutal. The best he could hope for was that the work he'd done trying to calm his Master's temper would pay off.

Kimble finished with the bag and carried it outside to the limo. It was late morning and the sunlight was reflecting brightly on the snow all around. He paused and gasped sharply as he was temporarily blinded when he opened the door and stepped outside.

"A little bright for you?"

Kimble swayed and blinked his eyes. "Yeah. S'all the snow, I guess."

Mary was out on the steps, drinking coffee. She was often outside, he'd noticed. It was cold -- freezing actually -- but she was dressed only in a T-shirt and jeans. She never seemed to feel the cold when she was in the sun. He had asked her about it once and she told him that she was actually absorbing a bit of plasma energy from the sunshine, it recharged her internal batteries and heated up her body. Kimble laughed, it was just like how her power warmed his own.

"All packed up?" Mary asked, brushing her hand lightly against his own as he passed.

He smiled at her, warmed by the contact. "Yep. Jus' don' wanna go, is all. I likes it here."

"We'll come back. This job is a quickie. Won't last more than a day or so."

"Why we gots ta go at all? Master's got money."

"A promise is a promise, my dear. Victor won't get any more work if he keeps backing out on things."

"What's he backed on b'fore?" he asked, but then frowned when he realized he already knew the answer. "Oh. It's me, huh? He wuz suppozta gives me ta Jael."

"Don't sweat it, dear," she said, tugging on him gently. "No one else knows about it. Your Master will be safe."

Kimble nodded and walked over to the limo to toss the bag he'd packed into the open trunk. Creed was there, shuffling some things around. He smiled when he saw the pilot approach. "Hey, Kim."

"Kristalay."

"Why so glum, huh? I told ya we're commin' back."

"I knows. I jus' had a good time is all."

Kimble had recovered from his fright from the day he had built the snow castle. There had been no further trouble and the time here had passed quickly. His Master had no need to punish him for anything further and all three of them had been happy. Kimble was worried that he might screw up again if they went back to the City, he didn't want to incur his Master's wrath.

"You'll like the loft. It's in a quiet away place, not like the penthouse. It'll be just the three of us, just like it is now," Creed said, hoping to calm Kimble's nerves. He could see his servant was nervous and fidgety. Kimble had been good and quiet these past days, Victor didn't want any more unpleasantness. Besides that, he wanted the privacy for himself. He no longer wanted it known that Kimble was still at his side, it was too dangerous. The only thing that kept Jael at bay now was that he hoped the terrorist still had no clue where he was. Creed had vowed to keep his treasure separate from what was left of his gang, Mary would be the only one who knew Kimble was still with him.

Kimble nodded and went inside the car to wait. He himself had packed up already, he only had just a couple sets of clothes. He stretched out on the bench seat and closed his eyes.

_Yous guys better not gits me inta no more trouble_, he cautioned to his fractured selves.

_We wouldn't ever do that! _Lakotashay teased, cackling.

_I means it. Things have been good, don' wants ta screw this up._

Zander was quiet. It was true things had settled down. Although they were no closer to freedom, there was no mistaking the Lover's happiness. Zander didn't speak of it, but he just didn't understand why Kimble tolerated the abuse. The Master was better, but it didn't keep them from being clawed and hit when the fucking started. Granted it was less and less — or the Lover simply minded it less and less, much to the Punisher's horror — but it didn't look it was ever going to stop. Zander was aware that Kimble believed them ruined, corrupted beyond the ability for a normal user to ever want to have them. Zander did not agree. He had faith that they could still be loved and desired. They just had to get out of this bad spot they were in. No big deal.

Beyond that, there was the business of finding their angel. They had power now, they knew how to make a blade and Channel the plasma through it. That had been their goal of going out and learning in this world, Zander believed that now. That chore was now done. All they had left to do was get back to the X-men, practice to stay in shape and wait for their angel to come. Zander did not want to be in Creed's custody when that happened. He instinctively knew it would be bad, Creed would damage their precious find. Just the presence of the tiny pilot child in their own mind was enough to convince him of that. The new arrival had been very quiet lately, he'd curled up in his chains and gone to sleep in his blanket shroud, hopefully for good as far as Zander was concerned.

Kimble was out cold asleep when his Master finally slipped into the car beside him. He never felt it when his head was carefully raised and placed onto the large warm lap, he just snickered softly and readjusted himself without waking. The Master's vibrations of happiness and comfort seeped into him and his dreams were quiet and wistful.

He awoke somewhere around Boston, snorting softly and rubbing his eyes. It was unlike him to sleep for so long, but he'd been so warm and comfortable. He felt his Master's hand on him next, issuing unspoken commands. Their relationship had grown stronger at the cabin -- in many cases, a single word or gesture would be enough to let Kimble know what was required of him – and Kimble was happy enough to serve. He dropped down to the floor of the car and slid in between Creed's large legs on his knees, letting his mouth offer a means to end his Master's own boredom. When he was finished, he lay his head back down on one of Victor's large naked thighs, satisfied and happy with his work, feeling the heat from his Master's skin warm his cheek.

"Are ya hungry?" Victor questioned softly, his hand on Kimble's head, petting him gently now.

" 'Pends on what it wuz, I guess," Kimble answered with a soft laugh. He was warm and comfortable, happy.

"This's Boston. Got some good chowder here."

"What's chowder?"

Creed just laughed and used the tiny intercom to speak to Mary about rustling up some chow. He dressed quickly and they pulled over to a tiny roadside place. They were past the city proper now, but not so far away they would miss this treat. Mary went inside the restaurant and Creed got out and stretched, blocking the view of Kimble's pilot body through the now open door with his own. He looked around him, ever watchful that they were being tailed. It looked clear enough so he was calm. Mary came out with the food and they ate inside the car. Kimble got to sample from both his Masters' plates, enjoying what he was given. The chowder he liked very much, but Mary's steamed clams were better. She had grabbed lots of napkins, the meal was delightful but messy. She was thoughtful and bought him a Coke, knowing it was one of his favorite drinks.

Kimble sipped his drink and did his best to peer outside the still open car doors. It was warmer here than it had been in Maine but was still chilly. The fresh air was nice though, Mary had draped a blanket over his wings to hide them and to make him more comfortable. "I likes it here, like this," Kimble said softly after he swallowed another exquisite morsel of clam that Mary had given him. "We should jus' drives around ferever."

Creed laughed. "Sounds like fun, Kim. I know lots of places I could take ya."

"Been a while since we've been down to Florida," Mary popped in, munching happily.

"Humrph. Too hot," Creed replied. "I was thinkin' more like Canada since the kid likes the snow so much."

"Montreal could be fun," she offered again.

"Maybe after this job."

"What about the Rally?"

Creed groaned inwardly. It seemed to be some kind of mental block with him that he kept forgetting. It was just as well they were going back, he had to get ready. "Gotta stop at Frasier's on the way back. He's got papers for me."

Mary nodded. "I'll call ahead." She reached for her phone.

Kimble wasn't paying attention. His belly was full now from the food and drink and his eyes droopy again. Food always seemed to make him sleepy. The Master's business was a million miles away from him and unimportant.

They packed up and drove on, not stopping again until they were finally back in New York City. They stopped at a large house in Brooklyn, but when Kimble asked if this was the loft, Mary shook her head. The Master got out and went inside, coming back out a short time later with a couple of large paper mailing tubes under his arms. He got in and tossed them on the opposite seat, saying nothing.

They drove on, going over the Brooklyn Bridge and back into Manhattan. They went down to the waterfront near a large warehouse. Here they finally stopped and got out. They unpacked the car and Kimble peered around him in silent dismay. This was no bright shining cabin in the middle of the sparkling woods. This was a derelict building barely standing, rusted and reeking of dead fish. All the windows were boarded up, he couldn't see inside. He meekly followed his Master inside and kept his head down as they went up a set of rickety stairs and into a loft apartment that was on top of the empty warehouse.

When he got a better look around him, he smiled then. Whatever this place may have looked like outside, the inside was finely furnished and comfortable, a cloaked and homey place not unlike the Lucky Dragon. No one would ever suspect such a place was located within. He saw his Master's face looking at him with wry amusement. "Told ya it was nice here. Gonna take it personal how ya never seem ta trust my judgement."

Kimble bowed at him. "Sorry, Master."

Creed snorted happily and walked up to one of the bedrooms. These rooms were the only ones walled in, the rest of the place was open, although Kimble could see an office that was separated by large screens with beautiful Japanese decorations on them. Kimble followed his Master in the bedroom and settled in as he had in the cabin, his position as the Master's bedmate would not be challenged. He lay on the bed and pawed at one of the long paper tubes. "What's in there?"

Creed grunted. "Plans fer the next big job."

"You said we wuz goin' back up ta Maine."

"We are, but we gotta come back fer this just like we come back today," Sabretooth explained with surprising patience. Kimble was like a child and there was much he didn't know. Creed usually hated to speak of things that should have been obvious, but Kimble had made his statement in a gentle voice with no hint of whining, he was merely inquiring.

"Kin I looks at them?"

"What?"

"Kin I see the papers."

"Why you so curious?"

"Bored," Kimble answered honestly.

Creed grinned. "I got you a cure for that."

Kimble smiled up at him, interested.

Creed shrugged. "Go on, if ya want. I gotta unpack. Then we'll play."

Kimble opened the mailing tube and slid out the papers inside. He was surprised to see that the scrolls were large blueprints for a massive building. He cocked his head, intrigued. Kimble knew many things and how to read schematics was one of those things. "Says Yankee Stadium on here. We gonna go see baseball?"

Creed snorted. "Not quite." He paused when he saw how Kimble was actually looking at the plans for real and understanding what he was looking at. "You seen something like that before?"

"Shure. I helped Remy and Logan blow up some buildin' on Cerise 'fore we came here."

Creed froze, stunned. "What?"

"Yeah, there were these Dognan guys and they had this huge base. We had ta blow it up sos we could all come home and Seth found plans jus' like this. There was a big plasma fusion reactor in the middle of it, you know? **Shang-tu frisknartu alay.** Big bang, very nasty. Took out 'bout six or seven hundred of them cat guys. Remy almost didn't make it out, he left Justin behind."

"Big blast, huh?"

"Uh huh," Kimble replied. He was still scanning out the plans, not seeing the hard look on Creed's face. His Master had just been reminded there was much about his servant he didn't know. " 'Bout two klicks 'round, the charges were C4 from here and we also grubbed up some dynamite. 'Spoze the Clan musta moved in after that, salvagin' the Dognan ships. Gots no ships fer a space battle that's fer shure, the dumb fucks. Not since we used the Dragon an' all ta git here."

"Where was this?" Creed asked in confusion, keeping his voice steady.

"Cerise. You wouldn't know it, 's off-world fer you. We had ta jump ta git back."

Sabretooth cocked his head. "Off-world?"

Kimble looked up at him and his smile faded when he saw the swirling of Creed's shine. Was he in trouble now?

Creed tried to soften the look of his face. " 'S all right, Kim. Just keep fergettin' you ain't from around here."

"I don't wants ta go," Kimble spoke, insecurity swamping him.

"I ain't lettin' you go, I'm just askin' some questions."

Kimble began to explain in a gentle easy voice all of his adventures, happy when Creed lay down on the bed next to him and listened with rapt attention. Kimble loved to tell jokes and stories and was pleased he had his Master's attention. He spoke of Siska and what he remembered of his life there. He explained how Fallen had found him and about Zander's horrible experiences on Clan Station Nine. He went on to say how he'd had troubles at the Xavier place and how Remy had taken him in, was his good friend. Kimble lost himself in his tale, not fully cognizant of how he was giving away a lot of vital information. Creed was familiar with the Mansion, it wasn't that, but Victor was learning about dissension in the ranks of the X-men and got a snapshot view of the team he hadn't had before. He knew Kimble's views were flawed by his feelings of being persecuted, he was more familiar with these guys than his servant. He learned this marvelous creature beside him could fly and repair spaceships and had an understanding of foreign technology that he might be able to use for himself. He was especially interested in these cloaking devices Kimble seemed to know how to make and managed to extract a promise from him that some would be made.

Kimble was oblivious of what he was saying, he had forgotten that this large man beside him was once his enemy. He felt so close to this new Master that his memories from before were fading. He had fallen into Victor's warm embrace and didn't realize just how trapped and vulnerable he was. He knew only that he was loved and cared for again, everything else had been deliberately forgotten.

Creed was happy. He now knew Jael for what he was, he had a better understanding of what the word Dognan meant. Jael was a renegade from off-world slavers and now seemed a lot less mysterious and whole lot more mortal. Perhaps Jael wasn't the threat Creed had perceived him to be. If that dumb fuck Logan and that stupid sucker thief blew up a whole base of these guys, maybe he could try taking Jael out himself and be free and clear with the toy in front of him. He had no desire to run forever, it wasn't his style.

"Creed?"

"Yeah, Mary?" he replied, looking up at her soft knock.

"Got your pals on the phone. The Brinks girl will be on target tomorrow morning as planned. Best get some rest."

"Right. Tell 'em it's a go."

"Right, boss." She departed, closing the door.

"Sleepy time, Kim."

"You said we wuz gonna play. Didn't git no real chance ridin' in the car."

Creed just laughed and tumbled Kimble over onto his back. "Yeah, we'll play."

Kimble giggled and allowed himself to be mauled, robbed of his clothes and laid down on his belly. Forgotten now were the plans from the stadium, they had fallen now to the floor from all the thrashing taking place on the bed. He never saw the small fine print detailing the expected damage, the body count in the thousands as Friends of Humanity mutant haters would be destroyed. He knew only his Master's will and desire, his new reality swamping the old as he embraced his life as Creed's servant.


	2. Chapter 2

(Two)

The next day, Carol Brinks shivered in her seat, crying from the ropes biting into her wrists. She was strapped to a wooden chair in Creed's loft office. She'd been grabbed only that morning, her whole day thrust upside down and she had no clue why she was here. She knew enough to be afraid. The ransom call was late and Sabretooth was really pissed. He was sitting in his large overstuffed chair behind the huge oak desk, his eyes boring into her while his claws slowly shredded the paper blotter.

Sabretooth's claws were a fearsome thing. Most of the time they hung out about a half inch or so, but when he was angry, like he was now, he could extend them out to a full inch. They were brown and wicked looking, curved and deadly like a large eagle's talon. They were sharp as razors and his healing factor kept them in prime condition. He slid his hand out with the claws in, then when he reached the end of the blotter, he slowly slid them out, making sure to catch the light from a small lamp in the corner. Once out, he sunk them into the paper and slowly pulled his hand back, tearing the paper with a slow hiss, like nails on a chalk board. In, out, and in again. Rip, shred, tear. His eyes ice cold while his claws did all the damage.

This whole deal had been one huge exercise in frustration and Sabretooth was deciding how much longer he was going to wait before he killed her just to make himself feel better. She didn't have to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking, it was there on his face for all to see. He snarled and made a move to rise, certainly to kill her, but paused when a slender white hand reached around the chair from behind to gently stroke his face.

"Master?"

Carol looked up to see who had spoken. The voice was soft, feather light, and was pitched to cause the least irritation for the interruption. She was surprised to see a strange white being, winged like an angel, glide smoothly around the chair to face the huge blonde monster who was now suspended awkwardly between sitting and standing, his attention now stolen from her. The newcomer's hair was long and black, flowing loose about its shoulders in an ebony shimmer, catching the light from the same small lamp in the corner. The angel was dressed in loose brown leather, a large black dog collar at its throat, a golden tag glinted there, too small for her to read. At first she thought the angel was a woman from its feminine grace and the ease of how it had manipulated the big man, but then she saw the long sideburns of Kimble's face and realized this was a man.

Creed was easily twice his size, yet this angel showed no sign of fear. He said nothing but touched Victor's face again, looking into his tawny cat's eyes with the tiniest of smiles on his lips. He had given Sabretooth a small sip of his power, just a little pop of blissful calm to draw his attention away from the girl.

Creed returned to his seat in an angry slouch. "Whatcha want, Kim."

"I thought ya might be thirsty."

"Eh?"

Creed looked stupefied as Kimble gently set a bottle of beer in front of him with a frosted glass, a thoughtful gift. Sabretooth was a little disoriented from Kimble's small use of power, these small jolts of bliss were a thing he would never understand, but he craved them so very much. It was a powerful drug and highly addictive.

Kimble cracked the bottle open, but didn't pour it. His eyes glanced briefly at Carol as he worked. He made it look as though he thought she was unimportant, but she couldn't mistake a glimmer there of a warning. He had come here to stop Creed from hurting or killing her. She knew this. She was to be quiet and not cause Creed to be drawn to her.

"I ain't thirsty," Creed grumbled petulantly. He was irritated, but not at the interruption.

"Well, Master...I am," Kimble purred and licked his lips suggestively.

"Heh, heh, heh..." Sabretooth snickered, interested. But he wanted more than just the pleasure of Kimble's mouth, oh yes. He would need more than that to burn off this rage.

Carol jumped in her chair when Creed suddenly whipped the angel around and slammed him down abusively on the desk, face first into the shredded blotter. Kimble landed hard on his elbows and cried out, but didn't resist, not even when one hand came off of him as Victor used it to unbutton his own fly and drop his pants. There was a horrible ripping sound and Kimble's clothes were tossed aside, hopelessly shredded. Creed grabbed a fistful of Kimble's hair and crushed his head down to the desk, growling in the strangest of purrs as he took Kimble forcefully, inching the desk closer to the kidnapped girl in the chair with each passionate thrust.

Kimble whimpered and cried from pain, tears streaming from his face, but he didn't fight, just lay there and let Creed do as he wished. He had worked hard to try and bring down his Master's level of violence in their lovemaking, but knew that this time, his Master was much too angry for this to go nice and easy. It was okay, really. He had grown used to this and was content to stop his Master's rage. Kimble's focus at this time was the girl. It was no different than his saving actions for Leon. He would let his Master's aggression run unchecked and burn itself out. He knew Victor would be calm after and there would be no rinsing of blood from his Master's clothes this night.

Kimble let go with the backwash and smiled behind his tears when he felt Victor shudder from it and slow his pace. He was held down with heavy clawed hands, but the stroke of his Master's body was gentled. Kimble shivered and moaned, whimpering now with pleasure. The combination of pleasure and pain was exquisite, he wouldn't last much longer.

Carol tried to turn her head away, but wasn't able to escape this vision of horrible violence because the way she'd been tied. Tears of fear and panic poured from her eyes, giving her some relief from blindness, but she could still hear Kimble's cries of pain. Her biggest fear was that she was going to be next.

Both men cried out simultaneously and then grew quiet.

Carol blinked and watched in confusion as a moment later, Creed gently brushed back Kimble's tangled hair from his face. Kimble's face was wet with tears, but he wore a look of utter bliss and he giggled softly as he was petted, showing his happiness at the caress. Creed stroked the white skin of Kimble's side, cutting him oh so gently across his ribs with his claws, sending small beads of grey blood dripping down to the desk. They shimmered and disappeared like magic, grey and not red like blood at all. Kimble shuddered again and trembled with joy. He was released, but made no quick moves to flee, lingering instead next to his Master and lightly touching Creed's now bare hips with soft, playful fingertips. Carol realized to her horror that this beautiful man, this angel, had actually craved the abuse he'd just received and had gone out of his way to get it.

Kimble helped Victor to dress, not caring that his own clothes lay in ruins on the floor. The only thing on him now were the marks of his possession, his body was scored with scratches and he was sporting the nice new leather dog collar. It had been one of the first things his Master had purchased upon their arrival back in the City. Just for fun, Victor had bought a large tag for it. It said, "My Toy". Kimble was pleased, it was another sign of his being wanted and desired.

Creed growled something low and slowly stroked his thumb over Kimble's lips, his version of a kiss. He let his hands do what his mouth hadn't the courage for, especially when they weren't alone. Kimble shivered from the caress just the same and licked at the finger playfully, seeing that his efforts had not gone to waste. Victor's eyes were now heavy and all of his earlier frustration gone, he even looked to Carol like he was stoned. Kimble gently touched his Master's his face again, a kiss in return, and withdrew as silently as he'd come, glancing back at Carol once and nodding just slightly.

Carol closed her eyes and sobbed quietly. She was in her late teens and still a virgin, but she had no doubt about what she had just witnessed. The angel had come and stopped the monster from killing her, banishing the beast willingly. He'd sensed how close Creed was to murder and had intervened on her behalf, doing something he would have done anyway, but choosing now as his time to benefit her.

Sabretooth sat back in his chair, relaxed now and comfortable, his desire for killing obliterated and forgotten. He reached for the bottle of beer which was amazingly still standing, and poured it into the glass. His action with Kimble had been so violent and swift, the glass was still frosty from the freezer in which Kimble had chilled it.

When the phone rang, he reached for it without his usual roughness and spoke calmly. The money would be paid and she would be freed. She put her head down and sobbed, grateful. When she was taken out, she looked for the winged man, but she never saw him again.

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The next day, Gambit read the police report Seth had given him, shaking his head in disbelief. The young Siskan had found it on SHIELD's large mainframe. They weren't the only ones looking for Sabretooth, SHIELD had several agents tracking Victor Creed at any given time. Someone there had learned about Carol Brinks' kidnapping and that Sabretooth had been paid to do it. Seth stumbled across the report that had been filed about it and sent it up to Gambit and Logan at once.

Seth had been quite busy processing the materials Wolverine and Gambit had gathered from Creed's penthouse. Mary's credit card came up through a hack on the SHIELD computer as well. She was Mary Green but also had several aliases. Using those aliases, Seth was able to track Creed up to Maine. He didn't have the location of the cabin, he had only the town where she had used one of her cards to buy food and some clothing. Charles had dispatched some X-men up there to investigate, but by the time they arrived, Mary had used the same card in Boston. Sabretooth was on the move. They lost track of him and then this police report came up. They now knew Sabretooth had come home to pull a job, now they were waiting to see where Mary went next. So far it had been quiet.

Logan had given Gambit the stack of photos he'd found in Mary's drawer. He was grateful to have them, Kimble appeared to be happy and playful in most of them. The one where Kimble looked as though he might be crying was painful to see, however. He wondered what had made Kimble look this way, he had no idea it was the thought of himself being absent from Kimble's life. He prayed it wasn't the result of a beating. Just the thought of Sabretooth's abuse was enough to make him flush and shake.

Remy shared some of the Polaroid pictures with Seth. He knew he was trying to fill a void that existed in Seth with empty photos instead of the real thing, but there was nothing else he could do. Seth took the pictures, a smile on his face and some happy tears. He gave his thanks and a nice big squeeze, something Remy had dearly needed.

Gambit read the police report again and rubbed his eyes. He was growing numb with pain to Kimble's new condition. He didn't understand Kimble's behavior in front of Carol Brinks. Last he knew, Kimble had an aversion to violence and didn't handle being physically abused very well. He should have been freaking out and wrecking the place, not writhing in ecstacy. Now, Kimble had been forever changed, corrupted. If he hadn't seen the tape of "Creed's Whore" for himself and heard Leon's story, he never would have believed Carol's interpretation of what she'd seen. Kimble had exchanged himself for her in the path of Creed's wrath, saving her life by doing something he would've done anyway. He fucked his Master's rage away, sparing her. What bothered Remy most was Kimble's getting off on it. It was clear from Carol's description of the intimacy being passed between servant and Master confirmed that Kimble now believed himself possessed and loved in spite of how sick it was. What was happening to his friend and how bad was it going to be before all this was done? Would he even be able to tear Kimble willingly away from Creed?

Remy's heart was filled with an aching sense of loss. It was horrible here in this big house with Kimble gone and it was getting worse every day. He tried to keep himself busy, doing anything offered to him by the Professor to distract himself. He took on a new project as well --- Seth.

Seth had settled into his new life as a free man pretty well. He had taken over the upkeep of the Lucky Dragon and his Mistress now that Kimble was gone. He cooked and cleaned so efficiently, the ship was always spotlessly clean and organized. He did this from love, not a sense of duty. Fallen was looking after him with skill and keeping him well sheltered away from anything she thought might harm him. Remy thought she was a bit smothering, but considering what Kimble was going through, he could understand it. But Seth needed more than just his Mistress at times. Gambit taught him games and the wonders of Coke, being sure to check in with him often. They shared a common love for Kimble that Fallen felt difficult to express, Kimble's love had connected the young Siskan to the thief and their friendship would be lasting.

Gambit did try to gently pry more details of his personal life from the young Siskan. While Seth did enjoy his intimacy with Fallen, it was clear he was not empathic as Kimble was. He didn't feel the vibrations, at least not as Gambit described them. For this Remy was thankful, he hoped it would keep Seth from cracking up as Kimble had. If anything, Seth got the reassuring comfort that he would be kept safe when he was in Fallen's arms. He craved her body and her gentle assurances of love and support, much as he liked it when Remy gave him physical affection. He felt loved, not afraid.

Talking to Seth did give Gambit some comfort for Kimble's loss, he wasn't as angry anymore. If anything he was growing more melancholy instead, more subdued. His high sense of laughter still had not returned. It was now close to Christmas. Christmas had always been one of his favorite holidays because he loved to both give and receive presents. This year he felt a great big blank nothing. He did go out and shop a little, but found himself often thinking of Kimble, the Siskan would have loved this holiday, he knew it. Gambit purchased a gift for his lost brother just the same, finding a few items for Seth along the way. Siskans were like little children it seemed to him and very easy to buy for. If it was bright and sparkly with color, it was sure to please.

He grabbed a little something for Molly as well. She, too, was very adept at brightening his spirits and she made him laugh far more easily than most other folks here. He found himself drawn to her because she made him forget his pain, but he was still firm on the matter of their not dating. She didn't insist and they fell into a comfortable routine of TV watching and playing board games, happy just to enjoy each other's company. He found a nice Cashmere sweater and bought it for her, not caring that it was ridiculously expensive. His lack of gifts purchased came from his depression, not a lack of funds.

He was unnaturally melancholy for this time of year and found himself thinking of other things. He was reflecting on his childhood and was again filled with an aching sense of loss. He needed something but wasn't sure what. As he attempted to shop for a holiday he had no interest in, he found his gaze drawn more and more to the mothers out buying gifts with their kids. His eyes tracked the gentle touches of reassurances given and how happily the children received them. Was it the intimacy between mother and child he missed or was it just that it had been ages since he was properly loved and held? He had never known his true mother, hadn't really cared all that much, his Tante had been a good enough substitute.

Tante Mattie. How he missed New Orleans and home. It was on his mind more and more. He hadn't even called there in a while. Kimble had breezed into his life, turning everything upside down. Remy was losing the sense of who he had been before and wasn't sure where he was going anymore. He didn't dare leave, what if Kimble needed him? But it was getting harder and harder to stay. He needed to get away, to remember what it was like to be really happy again.


	3. Chapter 3

(Three)

Gambit walked slowly down the darkened hallway and came to rest in the doorway of the large downstairs common room. He leaned against the doorframe, not quite ready to enter, and stood watching their newest team member take in the sights of Christmas around him.

Seth sat crouched in front of the huge tree, his eyes wide with wonder. All the artificial lights in the room were out except those strung with loving care around the huge spruce. A soft orange glow came from the dying embers in the large fireplace to his right and reflected off of the young pilot's skin. The lights were dim enough that he had set his glasses aside, wanting to see the pretty colors for real. Seth may have spent three years in Fallen's computer, but out here he may as well be a newborn. He reached out and touched one of the tiny bulbs, his curiosity getting the better of him. The lights had been on a while and were slightly warm, making him smile. He looked behind himself to his Mistress, but Fallen was out cold asleep on the couch, buried under a mound of afghan blankets.

"It's pretty, non?" Remy said softly.

Seth startled, but smiled when he saw the new arrival. He and Remy had grown quite close and his presence was always welcome. Sometimes it seemed like Gambit was the only one who truly missed Kimble as much as he did. Their shared pain was a strong bond between them. "Good morrow," he greeted, bowing slightly.

The phrase sent a wave of sorrow through Remy, sharp and intense. Lord, he missed Kimble so badly. It was an ache that would never heal. He buried it, not wanting to show his pain. He made his way over to the tree and crouched down next to Kimble's brother. "No Christmas for de Clan, ey?"

"No. I'm not sure they were civilized enough to enjoy such things."

Remy smiled and pawed at the pretty boxes tucked under the branches. "I see one dere for you."

Seth smiled, looking up into the Cajun's deep red eyes. "Yes. It's too pretty to open. It's a shame to waste such pretty paper."

"True. But Gambit always likes surprises."

"I put one there for Kimble," Seth said, turning back to the packages. "I'll save it for him...if he doesn't come back in time."

"We gonna try, mon petite fils."

"I know. You're trying harder than the others. I know...I know Kimble troubles you. It makes me sad for you...but glad for him that he has such a good friend. I wish I had your skills so I could help you. Maybe the two of us together, we could find him."

Remy was amused by Seth's enthusiasm and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure we could."

The younger man smiled at him shyly. "I know you love him. Why does everyone here think it's wrong?"

Remy danced around the question, still uncomfortable with his own feelings on the matter. "Gambit don' love your Kimble dat way. It's jus' dat when we shared de files...Kimble touched me in a way no one else ever has. Gambit's been alone a long time, guess 'e really needed a friend an' Kimble was dere for me."

"I'll be here if you need anything," Seth offered lamely, knowing he could never hope to fill his brother's place in this champion's heart. He looked upon Remy as some kind of marvelous god with powers he couldn't comprehend. "No one knows him like us. I'm not sure Fallen even knows him so well anymore. Her feelings are...confused."

"She afraid she let 'im down. She scared she gonna lose you, too."

"That will never happen. I'd brave an army of Valentins to protect her. I'd do it for my brother as well, if I only knew where to find him."

" 'E's close. 'E saw de snow same day as us."

"So close and yet so far," Seth complained, shivering. He felt so small and helpless.

Remy reached behind him and carefully eased one of the blankets off of Fallen's mound. He wrapped it around Seth's bare shoulders and laughed softly when Seth automatically leaned against him and fell into his embrace. Seth had been well loved his whole life. Well loved by a man as brave and strong as this one who sat beside him. This was Kimble's legacy, he had helped to create a personality in Seth that expressed himself as readily and openly as he did. Holding Seth was like being Kimble for a moment and Remy honored his friend by caring for his brother, giving Seth some of the love that had been robbed from him by fate's cruel hand.

Gambit closed his eyes and gently rocked Seth until he fell asleep, warm and comfortable in the arms of Kimble's best friend. Remy eased his cigarettes out of one pocket and lit one, believing himself to be alone in the real sense that mattered.

"Don't you be settin' that fine tree on fire, Cajun. Them kids worked awful hard ta set that thing up," Logan growled from the darkness behind him.

Remy turned his head to smile at Logan in spite of being startled. Wolverine had been in the room the whole time and he hadn't even known it. Wolverine was the old man of the crew and often referred to the others as "kids." Since most of those "kids" were older than himself, the expression never failed to make Remy smile. "Evenin', Wolvie."

"Yer up late," Logan said, coming out from the dark shadows to sit next to the fire. He joined Gambit in a smoke. It was against the rules to smoke in the house, but here they were, the two rule breakers comfortably in their proper roles.

"Bien entendu. Gambit's always up late," Remy replied. His eyes were glassy from exhaustion and one hand still stroked the shock white of Seth's hair in an unconscious soothing gesture. If Wolverine hadn't come in, Remy might have fallen asleep here himself.

Logan didn't even question the sight in front of him, the Siskan cradled in the arms of this careful thief. He had come to know that even though Seth looked like a man, he was more of a child inside. If anything, Remy's free affection was more comfort that any awkward embrace he himself could have offered. Logan was not an affectionate man and non-sexual physical intimacy was hard for him. He was pleased Gambit had come. "How's the kid doin'?"

"He miss 'is brother. Would be fine if Gambit could bring 'im de one t'ing 'e want mos' for Christmas. Don' look like dat's gonna 'appen, though. C'est la vie, non?"

"Never give up hope. We still got three days." His statement was a useless gesture. They both knew they had come up empty. Creed had vanished into the wind, spiriting Kimble away with him. He was as good as gone.

Remy smoked quietly for a minute before he spoke again. "Christmas ain't ever as good 'ere as it was back 'ome."

"Why's that?"

Logan was just making conversation, indulging Gambit's need to speak. Christmas had never really meant anything to him because he was alone most of the time. He had a feeling that with Karen around, things might be different this year. They had grown amazingly close so swiftly. The roller coaster ride of the last few months had been the best thing to happen to him in a way. It smashed down all the walls he had constructed, making it easier for her to breeze in and sweep him away. He was grateful and had no regrets.

"Dere ain't no real kids 'ere," Remy answered. "You'd t'ink wit all de luvin' an ' fuckin' dat goes on dis 'ouse, we'd 'ave one or two runnin' around, n'est ce pas?"

Logan snickered at the thought. "Guess we're all kinda busy savin' the world. Maybe later, when things calm down, that'll change."

"Dat's jus' it. T'ings never calm down. We jus' go from one battle to de nex', never takin' enough time fo' ourselves. Look at Jean and Scott. Dey been married 'ow long? It jus' don' seem right."

"Maybe the one all out of sorts is you, Cajun. Seems like you been doin' a lot of thinkin' lately. Maybe it's time to patch things up with Rogue if that's what you really want."

Remy shook his head slowly in a sad denial. "Gambit don' know what 'e wants, jus' dat it don' include fightin' and bickerin' all de time. Fallen an' Seth, dey don' love dat way."

Wolverine smiled to himself. He knew what Remy was getting at. It was easy to be jealous of those two, the way Fallen watched over Seth protectively and was always touching him. There could never be any doubt of their love. It was a lot like watching Jean and Scott...and more and more of what he and Karen were becoming.

"Your time will come, if ya believe what Anya said. Everything that she said would happen, did," Logan said cautiously. He didn't want to go too far in this direction. He wasn't ready to rehash Kimble and the warehouse.

Remy didn't either. "Nex' year, dere better be some little ones runnin' round dis tree or Gambit's callin' it quits on Christmas 'ere. Gonna go back t' N'Orleans."

"Maybe you should go back. Just for a while. How long has it been since ya seen yer dad?"

"More'n two years," Remy said softly. "Not since I firs' come back from Antarctica."

"Then maybe it's time."

"Mebbe." Remy continued to stroke Seth's head and the pilot smiled wistfully in his sleep, no doubt dreaming of his brother.

"Kimble will wait. The leads're dried up," Wolverine said, trying not to sound depressing. "You should go somewhere where ya ain't so sad. You don't look so good."

Gambit smiled at Wolverine's concern. They had grown closer after clearing the air between them, but there was still some distance there. A small part of Remy still refused to forgive him for letting Kimble go and causing the pilot to shatter even further. "Mebbe. Mebbe I jus' need some space."

"I'll call you if anything happens," Logan said, rising stiffly to stretch.

"All right."

"Get some sleep, kid."

"Yes, dad," Remy joked, rolling his eyes.

Wolverine just grunted at him and kept going, ready for his own bed.

Remy carefully extricated himself from around Seth and half carried, half walked him to where Fallen lay. The sectional couch she was on was huge and he lay Seth next to her. The two pilots found each other without waking and automatically folded themselves around one another. Remy stood over them a moment, terribly sad and jealous. This. This is what he wanted. This kind of unconscious automatic love that comes without questions or accusations of crimes past.

He stumbled away from them, weary now and made his way upstairs. He crashed on his bed, sleeping heavily as he finally gave in to the exhaustion nagging him. He slept and less than an hour after he woke, was driving down the long driveway of the house and away from his pain to New Orleans.


	4. Chapter 4

(Four)

Kimble ran through the woods laughing gaily. He was soaked head to foot and freezing, but couldn't hide his delight at being out in the snow. As promised, they had come back to the cabin after Carol had been successfully exchanged for the money. They had been back here for a week and Kimble never wanted to be in the City again, he was having too much fun. He squealed with joy as he was pounced on and tumbled down into a good sized drift, his Master now on top of him grinning merrily. They were playing an informal game of hide and seek and Sabretooth had just won again.

"Gotcha!" Victor crowed happily, pleased.

Kimble giggled like a child, happy to have Victor's complete attention, something that made him a bit bold. His laughing subsided a little and he grew serious, seeing the playful desire in his Master's eyes. His hands found Creed's hair and he raised his chin to kiss his Master's lips. He expected to be refused, he always had been before, and was surprised when it was finally allowed.

Sabretooth was trembling now, uncertain what he was feeling. He was never sure around Kimble, his emotions were all jumbled up. He was in love, he was fearful, he was confused. The Siskan was a man, something perplexing. Creed himself was not gay, never had been, and it was upsetting that the only one who seemed to know what he truly wanted and needed was this strange angelic pilot. Victor shivered and it wasn't from the snow. The kiss had been slow, tentative, but became more passionate when Kimble saw he wasn't being pushed away.

Victor was on alien ground, he had never slowed down enough to kiss. It was part of foreplay and a complete absent chapter in his book of love, such as it was. Kissing had nothing to do with rape. He found that this wasn't that unpleasant at all, he thought he might not like it. He didn't relish the idea of tasting someone else's spit, but Kimble's mouth tasted sweet as though he had eaten candy a short while ago. What he couldn't know of course was that all of Kimble's liquid secretions were made of gel, the same as his body. His gel contained glycerine, making it taste sweet. Whether it was spit, blood, sweat or cum, it would taste the same. The Siskans had seen to it that all interactions with their special holograms would be pleasing to the user.

"Kristalay, please. Let me loves ya fer real," Kimble whispered, his voice now rough with desire.

"What do ya mean?" Creed asked warily. He wasn't about to let Kimble have his virgin ass, no fucking way.

Kimble chuckled softly and used his power to lift them up and skillfully flipped them over so that he was on top now. He pressed his lips to Creed's mouth and swamped him with a blast of the backwash. It was filled with his intense love and desire and Creed groaned, seduced quickly.

"I wants ta look in yer face, I wants ta look in yer eyes when ya cum. I wants ta see it right up close," Kimble said, his body on fire now. "I kin do that without doin' whatcha don't wants. I loves ya, I wouldn't ever fucks with you like that."

Sabretooth couldn't answer, he could only nod and growl his assent. He was too overcome with lust, with the bright hot passion of Kimble's empathic power.

Kimble smiled, happy now, and laughed as he raised them up again, this time carrying them both aloft back to the cabin. He was pleased to see Mary was gone, he wanted some privacy for this. She had taken the limo which meant she would be away for a while. He brought Victor to the livingroom and sat him down on the large sofa in front of the fireplace. Kimble next sat astride him, pinning him down and letting his power flow freely, burning away any thoughts of resistance Creed might have had at not being the one in control.

Kimble went to work, enjoying this immensely. He started first with more kisses, pleased to see his Master learned quickly. Kimble kissed him throughly, tasting him and loving it. His mouth strayed down Creed's neck, lightly at first, then hard as he bit into him, marking him as his own in the only way that would be allowed.

Victor bucked wildly, fiercely aroused by his lover's rude suction. He had never been in a position where someone would give him a hickey and wasn't prepared for how much it turned him on. He loved having Kimble's head so close and knew by the sound of his breathing that his servant was wound up tight.

Kimble laughed, sensing his Master's approval and moved lower still. He popped buttons as he went, stripping his Master down out of his wet clothing. The pile on the floor grew larger as Kimble's oral exploration of his Master continued.

Creed sat quiet, enjoying the attention. He felt relaxed because he was sitting, it gave him some reassurance that Kimble wasn't going to back out on his word and try anything funky. He had no illusions about the strength of Kimble's power, if the pilot wanted him submissive, one big blast of his power would surely do it. Now, relaxed and comfortable, he went with Kimble's flow and let the pilot do his thing, unsure of why all this affection was so important to him. He recalled now the time he'd seen Kimble with Gail up on the rooftop and his mind started to work. Oh yeah, this is what foreplay was, what making love was all about. It was happening to him, finally, and he couldn't deny just how good it was.

Kimble's hands were never still, they stroked and coaxed the most delightful of shivers from him, showing him just how powerful a gentle touch could be. All this time, Kimble had building up to this point. He'd been slowing down the pace, touching more and more and, hopefully, teaching his Master how he himself liked to be pleased. If he could do this right, then just maybe, he would shape his new Master into something of what Sheyman had been. That was Kimble's ultimate goal, really. He wanted what he'd had then and would do his best to try and make that happen. He had all the time in the world, so it seemed in this snowy hideaway, he could do this if he was patient and careful.

"Kristalay?"

"What, Kim?"

Kimble didn't articulate his wish, he guided Creed's hands. He used those big paws to remove his own shirt and pants, happy when Victor got the idea and moved on his own, taking the time to stroke Kimble's skin gently, the claws not entirely pulled back. He had learned that Kimble liked to be scratched, just enough to bring a small bead of gel to the surface, just enough to break his skin. Really it was that Kimble had adapted to the situation he found himself in, not that he had always been a pain junkie. Whatever he had been before, he was powerfully addicted to this now.

Kimble was astride him again, but not making his move just yet. His eyes were closed as he gently stroked his Master's big paws over his chest and belly, savoring the contact and rewarding Victor with a steady trickle of his empathy. He was sending out intense vibrations of his deep love, something that filled Victor with happiness. It was so wonderful, this sensation of being loved and cared for, for knowing that someone out there wanted him and him alone.

It was true Kimble was turned on by the scratching, he shivered and arched his back with arousal. Creed eyed the signs of it suspiciously, hoping Kimble wouldn't try and make him touch him there. He wasn't ready to do that, he probably never would be.

Kimble seemed to sense Victor's discomfort at being confronted with the obvious truth of his servant's gender and did his best to move them past it. He brought Creed's hands to his face, kissed both palms and left them there at his cheeks, using his own hands to help ease himself down onto his Master. Creed smiled now, back on familiar territory. Mary had fucked him this way the second time, she had wanted to be on top after having been mauled so badly with him on top her the first. He moaned happily when Kimble's body surrounded him, flooding him with heat. He looked up with a grin as Kimble arched his back again with a moan of ecstacy, unable to keep quiet.

Kimble was loving this, oh yes. He wasn't mashed against a wall or tossed over a desk. He was back in control where he was more accustomed to being. He pulled the hair back from his shoulders, away from his face, and let it fall loose between his wings, loving the feel of it on his naked skin. He growled happier still when his Master's hands reached up to touch, to lose themselves in his ebony tresses. He bent down and his lips found his Master's mouth again, kissing him with eager passion.

Sabretooth almost lost it right there and then. He was unused to such passionate attention and it wound him tighter than slingshot. The pace grew fast and furious and yes, his eyes were open and looking into those of his servant when he climaxed, the thunder of his own heartbeat loud in his ears. He shook and shook, pausing only when Kimble's own rush slammed into him, soaking him in the backwash. His brain sopped it up like a sponge and he gave another violent tremor, grunting loudly.

Kimble laughed, giddy and high now, seriously pleased. His eyes were glassy and he trembled still, unable to contain the joy he felt now that his wish had been granted. He had used his own hands on himself at the last moment, keeping his release from blasting all over his Master. He knew that a face full of cum wouldn't go over very well with Creed, not in his current state of homophobia. He would slowly work his Master, desensitizing him over time. Perhaps the day would come when Victor could bring himself to touch, to experience all that he had to offer. Until then, he wasn't about to push the issue.

Now that he had calmed a bit from the exercise, Kimble was filled with happiness at the gift he had been given this day. His Master was still so close, he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him again.

"Hey, take it easy there, kid," Creed said, chuckling himself. Kimble's happiness was infectious and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than for it to never end. It was so nice, this being held in the arms of another.

"I loves ya," Kimble whispered in between kisses. "Don' ever leaves me...please..."

Creed's brow crinkled and he gripped the pilot tightly, suddenly feeling possessive. "I ain't goin' nowheres, kid."

Kimble was happily squeezed and lay his head on Creed's shoulder. "Thank you, Master. Thank you..."

Creed closed his eyes and felt Kimble relax against him. So right it felt to have him there, to have that strange winged body draped over him. He loved the feel of him so close, he liked the way Kimble's soft furry legs felt against his skin. Kimble looked like a man, but he was soft and fragile just like a woman, just enough to make this bearable for him. Sabretooth growled softly, a gentle croon like a purr. It actually was a purr, a purr of love and contentment, a gift of his mutation.

Kimble felt the loving vibration reverberating in Victor's chest and giggled softly, pleased that it had been made for him.

Creed stood, bringing Kimble up with him in his arms and carried him to the bed, leaving their wet clothes behind. Kimble laughed and laughed, a sound Victor had come to enjoy more and more. They tumbled down onto the bed and they played some more, roughly but not bruising. It wasn't long after that Kimble fell silent, his lips curled in a contented smile as he dreamed.

Sabretooth lay beside him, his face crinkled in that same perplexed expression he often had when he was alone with Kimble like this, when the pilot was asleep. Kimble looked so soft and fragile there, so helpless. It was difficult to believe this was the same creature who had blown Seamus to bits. It was scary just how much power was hidden there in that slender body. Creed covered Kimble gently with the blankets and dressed quietly. He left for the kitchen, shutting the door behind him.

He was sitting at the table, smoking and enjoying a nice cold beer when he heard Mary come in. He smiled when he heard her mutter under her breath about the pile of clothes they had left in the livingroom. It carried a hint of jealousy, something that pleased him. He stood up and leaned in the doorway. "Where ya been, darlin'?"

She paused in her work, she had their bundle of wet clothes in her hands. "I went and got a tree."

"A tree?"

"Yeah, a Christmas tree."

He snorted in derisive laughter. He'd never had much use for Christmas.

"A Christmas tree," she repeated firmly. "I thought Kimble might like it. You know he likes bright colors. I bought a lot of lights."

Creed stiffened, momentarily taken aback by the sound of caring in her voice. It still galled him that he was forced to share. He was feeling possessive of Kimble more and more and lamented his inability to find any other way to power the pilot.

Mary froze warily, watching these thoughts burn their way across his face. Creed smelled her fear and a slow, wicked smile split his mouth. He walked over to her casually, pinning her down with his eyes. She was unable to move, locked in place, even when he stood over her and pawed her hair, using it to pull her head back and expose her throat.

"It's been a long time, you and me," he growled, licking his lips.

"No...please!" she said, regretting it the moment it left her mouth. It was sure to inspire him to continue.

They had made a kind of peace after he had struck her so brutally that day Kimble had gone outside. Creed didn't apologize, he wouldn't, but had slipped her a little present without ever speaking a word. While they were in the City he had gone to one of the finer, more expensive candy shops and bought her a box of fudge, the real expensive, melt in your mouth kind. He knew she had a weakness for the stuff even though she didn't buy it often. She was far too careful with her weight to indulge often. She had accepted his offering, surprised it had been given at all, and had hoped nothing more unpleasant would pass between them. She had gone this long without being mauled by him, but it seemed that was one dream that just died a glorious death.

Victor grinned, aroused now by her fear, that was something that would never change, no matter how many times Kimble whitewashed his terrible, broken mind. He chuckled softly and started kissing her neck, licking her and then sucking on her hard as Kimble had done. She trembled against him and the clothes she'd gathered fell to the floor.

Mary was torn. She had no desire for him, he'd abused any lustful thoughts of him she might have had right out of her, but this man was her boss, she wanted to stay in his good graces. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the pain, deciding to just lay quiet in the hopes that her lifelessness would make him lose interest.

Creed felt her acquiescence and got busy. He was glad now that this had happened, even though it hadn't been planned. He felt he had to prove something. He needed to know he could still do this without the backwash. It was a concern that had been looming large in his mind for a while now. He did his best not to be so rough, Kimble's quiet cleansing of his mind was still in effect. He lay her down on the couch and carefully stripped her down, making a conscious effort not to shred her clothes or crush her with his much larger body. He didn't rush, he was well sated from the workout Kimble had given him and actually went through the motions of trying to please her.

He was surprised at how much he was enjoying this, enjoying her. What a difference doing this slow and easy, it was not a big reach for him in his calmed state of mind. It might have started out as a rape, as a contest of wills, but now as he kissed her and felt her so close, he was inspired to make love to her, to hear her cries of approval and desire for him. He was seducing her with kindness and so far, it seemed to be working.

Mary was stunned. She had expected him to just mash her down and slam into her brutally. She could tell he had gained some grace from Kimble and it gave her some hope that this wasn't going to be as bad as she thought it would be. He was kissing her and pawing her up, claws in and not scratching her at all. He even took the time to playfully lick at her breasts, something that made her nervous at first --- he'd bitten her savagely there the first time --- but now, he was all tenderness and affection. She showed her appreciation by warming a little and running her hands through his hair. He laughed, a low happy growl, and he squirmed out of his clothes — seemed he was spending more of this day out of them than in. He took her passionately but not with his usual brutal force. He was rewarded by a soft moan in his ear and the arching of her back as she thrust up to meet him with her hips.

"Victor..." she moaned, her hands sliding down his back to his ass, bravely showing him what she wanted and shoving him into her harder.

He laughed and replied with a tease in his voice, "Mary."

Oh, how Victor's mind was spinning. This felt so very right. Her body was soft and feminine, her breasts pressed against him in a very pleasant way. This was no odorless male pilot, this was a living flesh and blood woman. He wasn't gay, he wasn't bi-sexual, he was meant to be here with a woman. It had just been so long, he'd forgotten how good and right it felt to be here, her legs wrapped around him and her soft moans in his ears. He could smell her sex and her arousal, a powerful aroma driving him crazy with lust. More than that, he could hear her heart beating, faster and faster now, as her own lust grew. He knew he was pleasing her and it thrilled him beyond measure.

He had always found her pretty, it was what had driven him to fuck her the first two times. He knew it had been different then, he knew he had hurt her. He'd made her bleed, struck her repeatedly to get her to perform orally on him, something he knew she despised. He hadn't cared then, but that was different now. Here was a strange way to apologize, to make up for some of that. He was deliberately gentle, chuckling softly in her ear and taking her nice and easy. He was enjoying her, enjoying this, being with her, with Mary.

She was writhing under him now, her passion rising in strength. He pounded her but no more than what her hands had demanded. She bucked and shivered, then convulsed below him, the first woman to ever climax from his attention. He hadn't even waited for her the two times he had fucked her before, he just took what he had wanted and left her behind, aching and bleeding. This time, her climax filled him with a sense of happiness and pride.

He was wound from the sex, but Kimble had taken a lot out of him. As much as he was enjoying this, he didn't think he had it in him to finish. Oddly enough, he just didn't care. He relaxed and slowed, kissing her neck and smelling her sweet feminine smells.

Mary was happy now, delighted by what he'd just done to her. Clearly his time spent with Kimble was paying off. She had been very much aware that his temper had cooled and he was paying more attention to things around him, enjoying life more. She said nothing, not wanting to spoil the moment, and they just lay together quietly. She was a bit surprised when he grew quieter still and then began to gently snore. She knew from the pile of clothes that he and Kimble'd had another session, but she wasn't prepared for him to go out of his way to please her without getting off on it himself. Why would he even care? She realized then that Creed hadn't been going out prowling as much as he used to. Was this a test of manhood? She could see he had been conflicted over Kimble's gender, she had known it the moment Kimble wasn't allowed to walk about naked in spite of the dog collar. If this was in fact a test, she hoped he had passed. He would be in a happy mood later.

Mary lay with him for a while, stroking his shaggy blond hair gently. Creed wasn't a bad looking man, he was ruggedly handsome in a craggy Harrison Ford kind of way. He would never be pretty. But there was something in his eyes when he had smiled at her without malice, something vaguely attractive. It was happening more and more the longer Kimble was around. His anger was gone, the beast in him quiet enough to notice her for real. He was more careful with his tone of voice, especially after he had hit her the last time. The fudge he had brought her was also saying something. He had taken the time to think of her. Did he really like her, or was this something he'd done to pass the time? She chided herself for being silly, Sabretooth wasn't the kind of man to be what she would want anyway. She carefully eased herself out from under him and covered him up with the blanket that was always there.

He smiled and laughed softly without waking. "Rose..." he whispered, his large hands curled up at his throat.

She backed away, having no idea who he was talking about. He had said it like a caress, a word filled with love and longing. It gave her pause, once more making her think about him differently. No monster would say a name with such love if there wasn't a heart in him somewhere trying desperately to come out. Victor was changing. She dressed, leaving her thoughts behind, and went back out to the car, getting the bags of Christmas stuff she had bought ready.

Kimble shuffled out of the bedroom a few minutes later, his eyes droopy and happy as he always was after a good session with the Master. He was dressed only in his pants and was pulling his shirt over his head, being sloppy with it. She gave him a hand, frowning at the large long scratches that scored his chest. There were more than usual and just looked wrong there, swirled around his fine tattoo and ruining it. He said nothing, but gave her a loving kiss, laughing softly from the rush of her power as it cascaded into him, healing him. It wasn't enough to take her to the grey sky of Kimble's limbo but it was a significant draw. He shivered against her, snickering and giving her a loving embrace. "Where didja go taday?"

"It's a surprise."

"I likes surprises."

Creed woke himself at that moment, well rested after his short cat nap. They all went outside and lugged the tree inside. Victor sat back while Mary and Kimble decorated it, soaking up their laughter as they fooled about. He was enjoying this, it almost seemed as though he had a family now. Later that night, they shut off all the lights and lay in the dark, smoking some pot and watching the twinkling of the pretty lights.

A short time later, Kimble got up and fixed them all a little something to eat. Afterwards, he was in the kitchen cleaning up the last of the dishes and decided to check in on what the others were doing, it was so quiet in the cabin now. He turned and looked behind him, a smile spreading across his face at the sight of his two Masters.

Mary was stretched out on the couch, one hand tangled in the long strands of Creed's hair. Her eyes were closed. She wasn't asleep now but close to it, in that magical twilight place in between. The Master was seated on the floor, his back to the couch and Mary, his eyes tiny now from being high and utterly contented. There was only the tree and the fire, all the warmth he needed. He grinned slightly when he saw Kimble standing there, looking at him with such love.

The pilot finished with the towel and came into the room, walking silently as always. He came close and crouched down in front of him, leaning in for a kiss. Their mouths collided in a gentle embrace that was all love, not passion. The fucking was over, this was only about what Kimble wanted to say without words. Creed's hands cupped his face and showed his approval, of his acknowledgment of what Kimble had wanted to express. Kimble smiled and carefully lay down, placing his head in his Master's lap to be petted. He felt his Master's hand touch him and shivered from the love there, the absolute love. He closed his eyes and hummed softly, a nonsense tune and let sleep take him.


	5. Chapter 5

(Five)

Gambit stepped off the plane, a little dizzy from jet lag. He hated flying but it was a necessary evil, New Orleans was much too far away for him to drive. Speaking of which, he had left so abruptly he hadn't made arrangements for a rental car. He was about to head towards the Hertz booth when he noticed a familiar blonde young man holding up a sign with his name on it. He was wearing a black suit and tie, completely miserable in it.

Gambit grinned and snuck around the guy's back, using that natural stealth he had been blessed with. He reached his hands out to cover the man's eyes in a tease when a loud squeal broke out behind him. "Oh, my Lawd! It's Remy! Remy LeBeau!"

Both men turned, the thief and his prey. The blonde grinned but poor Remy was attacked. He was pounced on by a curvaceous redhead wearing the tiniest of sweaters. She had vaulted off the ground and into his arms, risking life and limb to tackle him in her stiletto high heels. He was squeezed without mercy and drowned in kisses. "Oh, Remy! Where have you been? It's been ages!"

"Uh, oui, chere. It's great seein' you again..." Remy stammered lamely, his brain quickly sorting through its huge Rolodex in a vain attempt to identify the woman clinging to him. He held his left arm aloft, protecting it. He'd had Henry remove the cast that morning even though it was too soon. He didn't know how long he would be gone and didn't want it on any longer than he had to. Besides, it made him itch like crazy. He had a plastic splint on it now, given to him only after promises to be careful.

"Oh, you silly! You don't remember me do you?" she said with a pout.

"Uh, sure. Gambit never fo'get a face, certainly not one as pretty as yours." Her lovely breasts were crushed against him and he was drowned in her perfume. Obsession or some such... Oh yeah, he remembered now. "Sherry. It's been a long time."

"It's Cheryl, you big lug, but that's okay. You can make it up to me."

Gambit wasn't given an opportunity to respond. She pressed her lips against him in a bruising, passionate kiss. His whole body shuddered from it, desiring this, desiring her. His hands found her hair and he was necking with her, making out in the middle of this busy airport with a woman he had picked up once in a seedy Bourbon Street bar a lifetime ago. He expected the fear to come crashing in on him but felt only an intense need. His body was demanding a release from its tensions and frustrations and it was wearing down his fear. Maybe it was just as well he had come back here — heck, Mardi Gras wasn't all that far away. No one would care if he stayed away a month or more, he thought selfishly. Logan would call him if Kimble showed up, the man was as good as his word.

A heavy hand gripped his shoulder. "Dat's enough, Lover Boy. It's bad enough I 'ad to watch you stealin' every girl out from under me when we was kids, now I gotta watch you suck face in dis busy airpo't? Fo'get it, homme. De only one takin' you 'ome is me!"

Remy laughed and cocked his head at the blonde young man in the monkey suit. "What's dat, Etienne? Jealous?"

Etienne separated the couple and moved in between them. He regarded the girl with eyes as mischievous as the mutant beside him. "Contrary to what you may 'ave 'eard, Mademoiselle. Dis LeBeau ain't de bes' LeBeau in town. Why 'ave a redhead when you can 'ave a blonde, hien?"

She humphed and tossed her head, walking away. "Call me," she tossed over her shoulder at Remy, winking. She had slipped her phone number into his pocket.

"I see you still got yo' way wit de girls, cousin," Remy teased, not the least bit upset to see Cheryl walk away. She was pretty, yes, but he'd had better. It wouldn't take him long to find a suitable replacement, not here in this town.

Etienne ran a hand through his hair with a proud smile, preening. "I'll 'ave you know de femmes be crawlin' all over dis piece of prime real estate, homme. You gonna 'ave to peel dem offa me, de moment we be 'ittin' de streets."

Remy laughed. "Dat's only cause Gambit been gone so long. Dey fo'got what dey missin'."

They moved on to gather Remy's luggage. He had packed lightly, knowing he could just pick up whatever he needed here. Etienne had come in the Thieves Guild's big limo, notified through the Guild's vast network that Remy had booked this flight. The big car was a waste of time, Remy just sat up front and they cruised the streets at high speed, the expensive vehicle moving with a luxurious, liquid grace. Remy rolled down the window and closed his eyes, taking in the smells of this magical place. This was New Orleans, this was home.

It had beentwo years since he'd been here, but it felt as though a lifetime had passed. He had lived here almost all of his life. He'd been abandoned at birth on the doorstep of Saint Anne's, the only orphanage certain to accept a mutant child. Father Duncan's kindness was well known and Remy hadn't been turned away. He had no name, so Father Duncan called him Remy Cadeau, cadeau meaning "gift". As much trouble as Remy got into during his time there, the Father loved him dearly and considered him to be a gift from God. They learned much from each other and the Father was grateful to have him.

It came as no real surprise when Jean Luc LeBeau showed up at the doorstep as unexpectedly as Remy had eight years earlier. The Thieves Guild was generous and Jean Luc had taken in several of the orphans into the Guild itself, taking the older ones that no one would adopt...but also the ones with special abilities certain to benefit the Guild.

Jean Luc was a tall man, in his late forties at this time. His eyes sparkled with mischief and his salt and pepper hair was tied back in a long braid down his back. He had a neatly trimmed goatee, making him look rather dashing. He had never married and his womanizing was well known -- he had several bastard children living with him at his huge Mansion and he adored them all -- he was simply too restless to settle down with a single woman. He was dressed in fine clothes and his long stretch limo was parked out front. At his side was one squirming Remy Cadeau, his long auburn hair twisted in the man's fist. It seemed this young scrap had the audacity to try and pick Jean Luc's pocket.

The Father was mortified, Jean Luc was a well respected man and had given a lot of money in support of the orphanage. He began to sputter excuses, but was stopped by a raised hand. "I've come not for excuses, good Father. Non, dis young man comes 'ome wit me."

Father Duncan was surprised. Jean Luc had never adopted one so young before. Remy was only eight. "But, sir. This one is...something of a handful."

"Bien entendu. Dat's precisely why I've come to take 'im."

The arrangements were made quickly and Remy found himself in one of the largest houses he'd ever seen. It was a true Mansion located on twenty private acres just outside of town. Like Xavier, the Thieves Guild owned almost all the properties in this section of town and was run like a huge family. Jean Luc hadn't married, but he did have plenty of help running the house. In charge of the children was Tante Mattie, a magnificent colored woman who was a also a voodoo priestess and a healer. She ruled the kids with an iron hand so much like Father Duncan that Remy felt right at home. Of course he cheerfully tormented her with his antics just as badly as he had the Father and the two grew quite close. She became his mother and he often turned to her for advice and comfort when he was sick or down in spirits.

The Guild was an organized crime family, but being thieves, they were not known for their violence. They were not destructive or murderous by habit. They were the best at what they did, nothing more. Not that they couldn't handle themselves in a scrap mind you, Remy was embraced by the Guild early and trained in all of its arts, including self defense.

Remy took on quickly and showed promise very early. Jean Luc found in him something very special and he grew to love the boy. He became Jean Luc's son in every sense, he was officially adopted as part of the Guild, but became a legal LeBeau as well. That was an honor that he alone had received out of all the adoptees, the other kids were taken in by Jean Luc's officers and not given the name LeBeau.

Not everyone was so happy. Of Jean Luc's bastard children, two of them were sons, Henri and Paul. Both of them had their eyes on ascension to top dog of the Guild, figuring their being blood assured that spot to them. As the boys all grew older, Remy found more and more favor with Jean Luc and the two began to fear that neither of them would be chosen.

Remy had no desire to head the Guild, he was just looking for the next big score and living it up. He had no idea he was about to be embroiled in a bitter battle between these two sons. He was a teenager who was having the most wonderful and educational affair with a much older woman, the wife of one of Jean Luc's lesser henchmen. He was young, he was handsome in spite of his red on black eyes and he knew it. He had discovered women early on and his ambitions didn't go beyond which new lesson this woman was going to teach him. He had already been practicing some of his newer techniques on the local girls, well on his way to building a reputation as wild as his adoptive father. Remy was a fly by night kind of guy, he always would be. It was a byproduct of being an orphan, he'd learned early on that the world could change in the blink of an eye. Who was going to run the Thieves Guild after Jean Luc was the furthest thing from his mind.

The coming battle came to a head on Remy's sixteenth birthday. Jean Luc had a big party and had gotten a little drunk. He slurred to one of his lieutenants that he was going to announce Remy as his successor at the boy's next birthday, when he was to come of age. It was overheard by Henri who immediately went into action.

He precipitated a fight between Remy and Paul, over a girl of course. The boys were all drunk from the party, fawning over all the girls, and Paul had a wicked temper. Fists went flying and they had quite the brawl, thrashing and flying about. All the boys could fight and there was nothing like a spectacular LeBeau brawl. The two boys were all twisted around each other, pummeling each other without mercy, and crashed into the crowd. Unseen by all, was the dagger that flashed brightly once and found purchase deep in the side of Paul. Paul cried out sharply, but no one took it that seriously until he lay still and Remy stood up, drenched in blood. The dagger was now on the ground, so hopelessly covered in blood no one would ever know who's hand had ever held it.

Remy screamed in terror and gripped his brother's body to his own. Sure they bickered and brawled, but Remy never truly hated anyone, not enough to kill. He loved all the boys of the Guild, they were family, they were his brothers and cousins. They were all he had. His eyes flooding with tears, Remy looked into Paul's eyes as he died. There was only forgiveness there, Paul knew who it had been that killed him but took that secret to the grave. He died without ever speaking a word.

Of course there was a great big scandal. It was all Jean Luc could do to keep Remy out of jail. Remy swore his innocence and Jean Luc believed him, but could no longer allow Remy to inherit the Guild. No, Paul had a small following of his own men, lieutenants of his own clamoring for revenge against the fiery eyed mutant. The Guild was in trouble, on the verge of war. The only solution was for Remy to leave.

At the tender age of sixteen, Remy was back on the streets. Jean Luc bought him passage to New York where he had some distant family living. The plan was for Remy to stay with them, but things didn't work out so well. Remy wasn't well received because he was a mutant. He slipped out after only a few days and was back on his own. He'd been on the streets almost a couple of years when the whole Morlock thing went down. Jean Luc had heard about it, but never learned of Remy's involvement, it was well out of the range of Thieves Guild sphere of operations.

Remy had tried to keep in touch with Jean Luc, but wasn't good at writing letters or picking up the phone. As he got deeper into trouble after the Morlock Massacre, he stopped communicating altogether. Even after he joined the X-men, he hadn't maintained his ties. No, the next time Jean Luc saw his wayward son was when Remy showed up on his upstairs balcony, wretched and drenched in the downpour that had been raging outside.

It was a summer night and Jean Luc had the slider open. He barely turned when he heard the door open and was shocked to see Remy standing there, thin and gaunt after nearly freezing to death in the Antarctic. Remy had been rescued by some Russian salvagers interested in the base the bad guy had left behind. The only thing of real value they found was a heartbroken red eyed thief. It had taken a lot of hitchhiking and sweet talking, but Remy managed to work his way back home. It had taken him three weeks to get here, he had hardly slept from the travel and had no money for food. His wits and skill as a thief had kept him alive, but little more.

"Remy? It dat you, mon fils?" Jean Luc said, horrified at the sight of this gaunt young man in his room. Gambit had made very little noise as he'd entered.

"Oui, father." Gambit took one step and crashed to the floor, exhausted.

He was placed in bed and tended to by Tante Mattie. His presence was kept a secret, Jean Luc didn't want the peace to be broken by Remy's breach of exile. It didn't last, the rest of the family learned of his return. Amazingly, no one really cared once they were satisfied that Remy hadn't come back to stake a claim on the leadership of the Guild. He was just a lost son who needed his father's comfort. He was left in peace.

Remy stayed a few days, broken and weeping, his heart shattered. He told his father everything, daring Jean Luc to abandon him as the X-men had done. It didn't happen, Jean Luc simply loved the boy too much. There was too much of himself in Remy's eyes. Jean Luc had made his share of mistakes and seen his own horrors, he was in no position to condemn anyone.

Jean Luc tended his son and was the one who encouraged him to return to New York, to make peace with Rogue if that's what he really wanted. Remy had taken his advice, but didn't return to New York right away. He spent a lot of time running around New Orleans, trying to fill the void with other women and drugs, just to see if it really was Rogue he was missing. It was and he eventually returned to New York and rejoined the X-men, going back to his old life forever changed, but better than he'd been on his own.

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The limo cruised up to the LeBeau Mansion and Remy opened his eyes, taking it all in. It had been so long since he'd been here, he had almost forgotten what it looked like.

The house was huge, palatial and much larger than Xavier's. The LeBeaus were all about pleasure and comfort in all its forms. The Mansion was open to the fresh air, its large windows revealing expensive yet comfortable furniture within. Escaping also was the lovely aroma of Tante Mattie's cooking, the most pleasant of lures. The landscaping was grand, flowers of all kinds and smells were bright and fragrant all about, inviting happiness and fun. Remy couldn't stop the smile of the joy that spread across his lips. How he loved this place. He was a fool to ever have left it for a woman who would never love him.

He eased out of the car and reached for his bag. He hardly had it on his shoulder when he was once more greeted with feminine laughter. "Uncle Remy! Uncle Remy is here!"

This time, the thief was assaulted by a trio of girls. It was all right, these females were much younger and a treasure to hold. He laughed as he was jumped on and squeezed by a gaggle of five year olds, Henri's triplets.

Remy may have had some tension with his would be sibling, his involvement in Paul's murder was never exactly proven, but that animosity would never be passed on to these sweet creatures who clung to him now. He bent down to receive them, loving their childish smells, they had the scents of the outdoors and the food from the house clinging to their fine clothes and shining blonde hair. It gave him an idea. He reached into his pockets and distributed chocolate, his new habit of carrying the stuff for Siskans serving an unexpected purpose here as well. The children were grateful, squeezing him even harder. Their vibrations poured into him and their shines clicked on like tiny joyful lights, making him feel warm and happy. If it hadn't felt so good to feel their love, he might have been unnerved by this extrasensory perception startling him. Instead, it just made him intensely happy, their joy at seeing him caressing his brain pleasantly. He didn't want to let them go.

"Easy now, petites," Etienne complained merrily, gently moving them back. "Dis boy too old fo' alla dat. Go on in de 'ouse. Tell Tante her boy come 'ome, s'il vous plait."

They ran off, still laughing, and Remy couldn't help but pause to envy their happiness. He was once more struck with an intense desire. He wanted those kids for himself. He wanted a wife, a family. He wanted a mountain of kids, of small happy people who loved him unconditionally because he had raised them. He would never hurt them or lie to them or keep secrets, not him. They would love him forever because he would love them back with all of his heart. These thoughts came across his face as a terrible sadness and longing. He was forced to smile when he saw Etienne looking at him strangely.

"You okay, homme?" his cousin asked gently. They had been close growing up, as close as brothers, and Etienne would never be able to hide his love.

"Oui. Jus' missed dis place sumptin' awful."

They moved on up into the house. Remy set his bag down on the floor and made his way to the kitchen, letting his nose guide him though he knew the way by heart. He could already hear Tante Mattie's happy complaints. "What you girls all doin' in 'ere, hien? How yo' Tante gonna cook anyt'ing wit you in de way?"

Remy eased up to the doorway and leaned in it as if it had only been yesterday since he'd last been in it, not two long and painful years. Tante Mattie was a large, impressive woman. She wasn't trim, her fine Cajun cooking had put an end to that, but she moved about with a practiced grace, working easily around the children despite her complaints. She wore a large pink dress and had a folded colorful scarf over her head, covering her long braided hair and keeping it out of the way. She tried to pretend she hadn't noticed her wayward son standing in the doorway, but was unable to hide the smile that teased the corner of her mouth.

"You put yo' bags away an' wash yo' 'ands b'fore we eat. Jus' cause you ain't been home, don' mean de rules be changed."

Remy couldn't contain his smile or the love that swelled up inside of him at the sound of her voice. "Oui, Tante. Bonjour."

"Umm hmm. Now, you go on up an' see yo' father. He been waitin' all day."

"Oui, Tante," he replied, but went to her instead, pulling her into his arms. She laughed and squeezed him back, flooding him with her powerful vibrations of love and happiness to see him. His love starved soul drank them up, needing them desperately.

"You a little skinny, boy."

"Been a 'ard year, Tante."

"Tante's gonna fix you up right."

Gambit sniffed, smelling all the good things she had cooking. "Oui, Tante."

"Go on now," she repeated gently, easing herself away. "Go see yo' father."

He nodded, his eyes a little wet, and left her, heading for the large staircase leading up to the bedrooms. He never saw her smile falter a bit as he left, nor did he hear the soft prayer that escaped her lips.

------------

Remy climbed the stairs, his heart hammering in his chest. He was nervous and happy, but aloof. There was an air of sadness here, something he would have felt even before Kimble had touched him. He walked into Jean Luc's study, not sure what to expect. He stopped, stunned.

Jean Luc was seated in a wheelchair, a blanket wrapped around him. He was in front of a nice blazing fire, an odd place to be considering it hadn't been all that chilly outside. This place was never as cold as New York, something Remy'd had to adjust to when he moved up North. He used to get many stares from folks as he was almost always in one trench coat or another, finding New England far too cold for his tastes.

Jean Luc was warm and comfortable, almost asleep with his chin down on his chest. His hair was still long and braided in a long plait down his back, only now it was almost completely white and thinner than before. He was thin and gaunt, a sick man. A very sick man.

_Shoulda called 'ome a long time ago,_ Remy chided himself. _Mon dieu, dis man ain't gonna last another year!_

Remy leaned in the doorway, feeling silent tears stinging his eyes. He had so many happy memories of this man and they came on him now with a vengeance. Jean Luc riding him high on his shoulders, laughing gaily when he brought Remy to his first Mardi Gras, not caring the boy was still a child. Jean Luc teaching him to pick locks, how to cut glass. The admonitions and rules were there, so much like Kimble's — Don't kill, never kill. The score's the thing, but only a poor thief has to kill himself out of a bad situation. This was the source of his own acrobatic abilities and skill in fighting. Gambit had never directly killed anyone... not until Cerise. It pained him still to think of it.

Jean Luc had taken him down to some of the clubs he frequented, even though it was late at night. Sometimes there would be strippers there and Remy would look up at them in wonder, his red eyes gleaming. Gambit had learned an appreciation for women early. He found them beautiful and always respected them, something passed on as he watched the gentle hand of his father. Jean Luc may have made his way through scores of women, but he never spoke badly to them or hit them. They were never abused and Remy was certain his old man loved each and every one of them, just as he did his own conquests. Always the respect was there, it was never abuse and the girls always knew the score. He went out of his way not to put up false pretenses, he didn't want to hurt anyone.

Jean Luc had sent him out on his first trial run as a Guild thief. Gambit had been taken to a huge secluded Mansion and told to go in and bring something back, just to prove he'd been inside. He went out and was met with defeat on almost every point of entry he'd tried, mystified at the house's strange defenses. Invisible walls seemed to meet him, blocking him from entering. He finally broke with tradition and smashed a window, reaching inside to snag a small brass statue there. He was certain he'd failed his test --- he'd never actually gotten inside --- but so wanted to make his father happy. He was met out on the grass by large dogs and had to flee through the house's large yard. He heard a strange howling, curses in a language he didn't understand, and felt invisible daggers whiz by his head, lucky not to be struck himself. He managed to escape by climbing the huge back wall with his uncanny, cat like grace, almost dropping his prize. He made it and walked back to the LeBeau Mansion, his head hung low.

He was shocked when Jean Luc was not only pleased he'd made it back in one piece, the man was thrilled and crowing he'd brought back anything at all. The house was supposedly haunted by strange spirits, and none of the Guild boys sent there for testing had ever brought anything back. The first test was expected to be a failure. It was a test of courage, of will. Remy's ingenuity and cleverness had made Jean Luc's heart swell with joy. The statue had been placed on the huge mantle downstairs and remained there even now. Remy had never been happier.

Gambit wiped his face, composing himself, and entered the room. He took a seat on the sofa opposite Jean Luc and gently patted the old man's knee. Jean Luc startled a little, bobbing his head, but then smiled when he saw who was sitting there.

"Bonjour, mon fils," he rasped, his voice dry and scratchy.

Remy saw a glass of water beside him on a small coffee table. He handed it to his father so he could sip it. "Bonjour, father. You look well."

Jean Luc snorted at him and snickered. "You a worse liar dan dat fool cousin of yours, Etienne. I look like shit an' I know it."

"No one tell me you was sick."

"You never call, cher," Jean Luc chided not unkindly. "I'm glad you're here. You gonna stay a while?"

"Oui. Gambit stays 'til de Xs call me fo' sumptin'."

Jean Luc cocked his head at him, his sharp eyes catching the splint on Remy's wrist and the scar on his forehead. That one was new and not all that old. More than that was the sense of age that seemed to weigh heavily on his son. "You got a strange sadness on you, fils. Is it dat girl again?"

Gambit snickered softly, Jean Luc had never quite approved of Rogue. Remy had brought her down here once before the Antarctica disaster and although Jean Luc said nothing, she had made him wary. It didn't escape Remy's notice. "Non. It a little bit of everyt'ing. Been too long away."

Jean Luc reached out and tipped Remy's chin to better catch his eyes. "How long has it been since you felt you been loved?"

Remy startled a little at the strange question. "What?"

"You always 'ave dis look about you, hien? You ain't never been able to 'ide nuthin', specially from me. You always seekin', never findin'. Gonna have to get dat cousin of yours to take you out. You need a woman, a real one you can touch."

Remy couldn't help but smile. Jean Luc's solution to any problem seemed to involve women. This wasn't the first time those words had come at him when he was in pain. "P'etetre. P'etetre, dat all dis po' boy need." He swallowed and changed the subject. "How long you been sick?"

"Been sick since before you left, just didn't say much about it. Didn't want to worry nobody. Got de cancer 'bout five year ago, been dealin' wit it fo' a while now. Just runnin' out of gas is all."

"Father..." Remy whispered and a traitorous tear fell.

Jean Luc smiled and wiped it away. "You are my son, my only son. You de only one to sit 'ere in front of me and show dis love. Not even 'Enri, an' 'e gonna lead dis Guild when I'm gone. I wish I'd known yo' mother, she must 'ave been one fine fille to bring such a good son out into de worl'."

Gambit sobbed and fell to his knees, laying his head in this man's lap just as he had done to the Professor almost two years ago. It was cry for help. _Love me, keep me, don't leave me all alone._

Jean Luc lay his hands on Remy's head. "Don't cry fo' me. I've lived a good life. I sit 'ere so 'appy, t'inkin' back on all de good people I've known. De Lord blessed me, though I'm too much de scoundrel to deserve it."

"You de bes' man Gambit's ever known," Remy mumbled through his tears.

"You my best son. Mebbe it just as well you didn't want de Guild, it a 'ard t'ing to lead so many people, you got too much to do. You too young. Live yo' life well, fils. Don't 'ave no regrets."

Remy sniffed hard and wiped at his face. "Too late fo' dat."

"Non. Every man got to 'ave 'is 'eart broke, it make you really see what you 'ave around you. It teach us humility, humanity. Dese impo'tant t'ings, fils. You know dis more dan most, you a stronger man dan 'Enri. De Guild will look after itself, but mebbe you could speak to your Professor X 'bout some of de kids 'ere, de special ones."

Remy sat back on his heels, calming down. "Oui, father. What you need?"

"Some of dem could use some trainin', some of dem good lessons de Professor teach. Tante got 'er 'ands full, gonna be worse when I'm gone."

Remy shuddered, he couldn't help it. "Oui, father. Chuck'll take 'em in, no problem."

Jean Luc's hand found his head again. "Don't you worry, fils. I'm not going anywhere just yet. Stop yo' cryin', just come up 'ere and give yo' old man a hug, he need it so."

Gambit was quick to obey. "Je t'aime," he said, reduced to that small boy this man had rescued all those years ago.

"Je t'aime aussi, mon fils," Jean Luc replied. "I'm so glad you came. Come now, let's go 'ave some supper, d'accorde? Tante gonna want to see you after, gonna tell you all my secrets, no doubt."

Remy laughed softly and stood, once more trying to pull himself together. He saw his father's eyes shining up at him with such love, he thought his heart would burst. He gripped his father's wheelchair and steered him to the door.

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After a glorious meal and a nice hot cup of coffee, Remy crept down the stairs to see his Tante. She had made him promise to come down after supper, they had much to talk about. This house had a massive cellar and she had her quarters there, "down in the dark where the spirits were strongest" as she always said. He knew the way, but followed a steady trail of lit candles, loving the smell of the melting wax.

Tante Mattie was a voodoo priestess and a healer, the atmosphere of her rooms pretty much settled that. One whole wall of her livingroom area was a massive ornate shrine decorated with candles and statues of both Christian and voodoo figures, paying homage to both equally. Beads and candles of many colors were lit all around, making it seem spooky to an outsider, but Remy was comfortable here. This was where he went to get guidance, to be healed from all of his ills.

Mattie was waiting for him in her kitchen and set a cup of hot steaming tea in front of him. He was already a bit buzzed from the coffee, but knew better than to refuse. He sipped it politely and was struck with a sudden deja'vu. This was the same tea Anya had given him.

"You a skinny, skinny boy," Mattie complained again.

"Oui, Tante," he replied automatically, kowtowing to her authority.

"Take yo' shirt off, fils."

He did as he was told, always uncomfortable with his scars exposed. They meant nothing to her and the sight of them didn't stop her hands from running over his torso, she had seen the damage Sabretooth had done to him when he had returned after he'd been dumped in Antarctica. Her son had been marked by the Devil himself and lived, to her it meant he'd been chosen for some great deed yet to be announced. When she spoke of it to him at the time, he brushed her off bitterly, arguing that it only marked him as incredibly foolish and a terrible sinner who deserved only to rot in Hell. She let it go, knowing better than to argue with such a tortured soul. He would heal himself over time. Back in the here and now, her soft and gentle touch paused over his stomach. He grimaced and grunted softly in pain when she pressed against him there. She clicked her tongue at him. "What's dis, eh? What's dis my son 'as done to his'self?"

"Two years wit'out yo' cookin', Tante. It done me in."

"Humph. Got bit by de bottle more likely. What dat fool City doctor give you?"

Remy just snickered softly. "Some pills fo' de ulcer, more fo' de pain inside my head. Gambit quit wit all dat, it wasn't doin' 'im no good."

"Dat's cause de pain ain't inside yo' head, son. It's inside yo' soul. Got yo' spirit all ripped up, yo' inner self all been disrupted. You all messed up, boy."

"You always 'ad a talent fo' understatement, Tante. Tell me 'ow you really feel, neh?"

She smacked him playfully on the head. "Don't you take dat tone wit' me, boy. Yo' Tante seen a lotta t'ings in dis worl', enough to know when 'er boy been touched by someone from somewhere else. You got some strange magic swirlin' up in yo' shine. Dat's where de trouble is."

Gambit couldn't help but shudder. There it was again, another mystic woman making comments about his shine. "Got touched by an angel, chere. 'E give me a little present."

"You an' de angels weren't gettin' along too good last I checked. When de last time you been down on yo' knees givin' worship to de one who made you?"

Remy bowed his head. "Je suis de'sole. T'ree, four months."

"Even after His angel touch you?"

" 'E wasn't no angel like dat, Tante."

"Umm hmm. How you know dat?"

" 'Cause 'e jus' a friend of mine."

"His touch a touch of love. 'E gifted you to better prepare for what's to come."

Remy scowled, not happy with any off hand remarks about Armageddon. "What you talkin' 'bout?"

"Dis a gift of his love. You lay wit dis boy?"

Remy's body froze and his face flushed furiously as he glared at her.

She only laughed at him. "Dat make no nevermind wit me, some powerful spirits can change what dey are, just to fool wit us. Make us question de rules."

"I ain't been wit no man, Tante," Remy insisted, his voice firm. "C'est la ve'rite'."

"You thought about it, though," she whispered, petting him. "Wit dis one, wit yo' angel. You all shook up inside, lost some of yo' confidence wit de girls, eh? Can't fool me none."

"What's dis got to do wit my shine?" he asked, trying desperately to change the subject.

" 'E give you a gift. It's a tool."

" P'etetre...p'etetre. But Gambit can't control it."

"You a strong boy, you'll figure it out soon enough. You jus' gotta get a handle on it, is all. You gotta learn how it be used. You own **it**, it don't own **you**, comprenez? It speaks to you, so give it a name an' make it your friend. Speakin' of which, de spirits be doin' a lotta talkin' to yo' Tante lately. Dey got a lot to say 'bout you."

"Tante, you know Gambit don't believe none of dat."

"Dat's cause all de big warriors got a belly full of doubt. You 'ave to find yo' strength again, get yo' inner spirit straight." She raised his arm, using a thumb to rub the scar there on his wrist, the one left over from his failed suicide attempt. She'd seen that injury as well when he'd come back from Antarctica. This scar scared her more than the terrible rents across his chest. "Tante an' 'er spirits 'ave many words about you, oui. It's good you come home b'fore you done anyt'ing stupid like dis again."

Gambit grumbled irritably to himself, not really wanting to hear it. "What yo' spirits say, Tante, hien? 'What poor wretch we gonna pick on today?' "

She laughed. "Dey say you gonna save de worl', fils. What else would dere be?"

She moved past her grumbling adopted son to the cupboards. Inside, she had a large number of jars and packets of herbs and spices. She took out several of these and began to combine some of them together in a mix for tea. "You take no more pills. You drink Tante's tea and eat up all 'er food, comprenez? She gonna fix you up right and take away yo' pain like she always do."

"Oui, Tante. Merci."

"Now, Tante hear talk of de boys wantin' to take you out tomorrow. You go wit dem, have a good time. You need to laugh, to play. Jean Luc not always so wrong when he tell you dat a soft warm touch is fo' de best. You take what God sends you and say 'Merci, mon Dieu', comprenez?"

He laughed now, not so angry any more. "Oui, Tante."

"Now you go on and sleep, take de rest of dat tea up wit you," she ordered, pointing to the cup on the table. "Had de White Twins make up yo' room fo' you, everyt'ing all fresh and clean."

"White Twins?"

"Oui. Jean Luc been takin' in a lot more strays since you been gone. Seem like de more sick he gets, de more he seek redemption. He took in seven kids dis year. Dey all have magic, all have powers like you. Some of dem quite young. Dey a 'andful fo' me, but I manage. Got dem running de house, keepin' dem busy. Yo' father sure like a house full of kids. Most of you boys are grown up and gone."

Remy nodded and rose, slipping his shirt back on. He was sure to grab the cup from the table. "See you in de mornin', chere. Mebbe we do some shoppin'? Gambit didn't bring nuthin' wit 'im fo' de Christmas tree."

"Si bien, mon fils. You sleep now, t'ink 'bout what yo' Tante say."

"Oui, chere. Je t'aime." He gave her a kiss, loving her.

"Je t'aime aussi. Sleep," she repeated and sent him on his way.


	6. Chapter 6

(Six)

Seth sat at his computer in the Lucky Dragon's downstairs shop, rubbing his eyes. It was very late at night and he was tired, but not ready to quit just yet. He had done another check on Mary's credit cards from Sabretooth's penthouse, but she was still quiet. Apparently she wasn't a big spender. He left the search program running, commanding it to send a signal the moment she used any of the cards he had tagged. That done, he was fast at work on another task, one more personal.

He had been trying to hack into Henry's personal files, being very clever and sneaky. He had no ill intentions here, he was looking for Kimble. He knew Beast kept well documented files on everyone here and that he had made a digital video file of the tape Logan and Remy had found. It hadn't been damaged in Gambit's fit of rage --- the TV had been demolished, but not the video player. The file was considered so vile and horrible that it had been locked away by Henry and no unauthorized viewing of it was allowed.

Seth couldn't hide the fact he wanted desperately to see it. He didn't want to see the beating, the rape, the torture. No, he merely wanted to see his brother again and hear his voice, something Gambit's Polaroids couldn't provide. It had been so long since he'd had those things available to him and was willing to take any substitute he could get, no matter how ugly. Seth knew better than to ask for a personal viewing, his weakness was well known and he was certain to be refused. So instead, he was here now hacking into the computer of one of his closest friends, a secret betrayal with the best of intentions.

He grinned silently when like magic, his wish was granted. It had taken him a couple of weeks --- he'd begun as soon as he'd learned Henry had encoded it the day it had been found --- but he'd won this cyberspace battle. He'd found the file and broken down the barriers. It was his. He copied it onto his own system, making sure to obliterate all traces of his thievery. That now done, he braced himself and played the file.

It didn't take long for him to start to cry and shiver and whimper softly.

Seth had always been protected, sheltered. He knew what pain was, he'd bumped himself a few times struggling to move about in this new world. But he had never experienced pain on the scale he was witnessing now. He could see the blows coming, hear the meaty sound of those evil fists connecting with the body of his brother. The rape... Well, this certainly was the first time he'd ever seen sex used as a weapon. It seemed so wrong, so totally evil. Sex was supposed to be a good and loving thing, a way to express the love he felt for his Mistress. It was love and rapture and joy. What he saw here was a nightmare. He didn't understand why Kimble was still sane, why he wasn't there killing them all for hurting him so.

Seth grabbed the framed picture of Kimble from the desk beside him and grasped it to his chest, using it as a talisman against the evil being played out in front of him. He had placed a couple of the Polaroids Remy had given him inside the frame, keeping the old with the new. Looking at the file now, he did his best to block out all the bad things, seeing only the white of Kimble's face, the blue of his eyes. Watching his brother there burst the dam inside of him and he bawled freely now, knowing Fallen was fast asleep upstairs and wouldn't hear him. He held one slender white hand to the screen, wanting to touch Kimble for real and hold him again. His grief was a white hot ache breaking his heart. He was now a little sorry Remy had left. He could use some of that good Cajun comfort now and chocolate.

He locked the file away, coding it so it wouldn't be discovered. He set his workstation in order and went upstairs to his Mistress, trying to cover up all signs of his distress. It was difficult. His heart was shattered. He crawled into bed as carefully as he could and pulled Fallen to him, demanding comfort without waking her. Her arms found him and the heat from her body washed over him, smothering the sharp pain inside of him. She mumbled drowsily and laughed, gently pressing his face to her breast, happy when he began to suckle there. Seth took her comfort and soon fell asleep, warm and comfortable.

He jerked awake, less than an hour later, his mind filled with horrible visions.

Seth was a sentient creature, but hadn't become fully aware of what his body was doing all at once. Because he was a hologram, he slept very little, perhaps only a couple of hours a night. Over time, he began to see pictures in his head when he was asleep and realized that he was dreaming. He'd heard Kimble talk about it enough times to not be terribly frightened by it. It was intriguing, actually. He thought the visions funny and often joked about them, he most often dreamed about making love to Fallen. Tonight, he'd had his first nightmare.

Instead of Kimble against the wall being raped, it was himself. He couldn't make out the face of his attacker, he only felt hot breath against his shoulder and a horrible ripping pain tearing up his insides. It was the fear that got to him, the fear and the powerlessness he felt as he was pinned there, unable to escape. His worst fear was being realized. He had no defenses, no ability to protect himself. It was terrifying and overwhelming. He couldn't help but scream.

Fallen woke instantly at his outcry, grabbing at him. "Seth! What's wrong?"

"Fallen!"

He crashed into her, trembling violently and gasping loudly, clawing at her with his hands.

"Oh, baby..." she soothed and rocked him as he burst into tears. "It's okay. Did you have a bad dream?"

"Oh, Fallen! It was terrible! This bad man was holding me down and oh! It was so horrible! I- I couldn't get away and he was hurting me so bad!"

"Shh. Easy now. It was just a dream, it wasn't real. No one's ever going to hurt you. I won't let them," she promised, brushing his hair with her small white hands.

"I was so scared... I couldn't get away... There was no one there to save me," he babbled, calming down from her touch.

Fallen looked up when there was an urgent thump on her door. Maylee was here, spending the night with Max as her guest. They frequently slept over. Both were comfortable here in the Lucky Dragon and Maylee had been coming here a lot, especially since Seth had been freed. She and Max had grown quite close and Fallen enjoyed having them here. They were still young and kept separate for sleeping. Max was using Kimble's old room.

Fallen opened the door with a mental command. "Yes?"

Maylee was there. "Is everything all right? I heard a scream."

"It's just Seth. He was dreaming."

Seth wiped at his eyes and blinked up at her. "I'm okay, May. I just got a little spooked."

Maylee smiled at them, satisfied. "Okay, goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, May."

Maylee whispered something to Max who now stood behind her, his eyes still droopy with sleep, and they both withdrew, closing the door.

Fallen lay back down and got Seth comfortable once more. "Were you up watching movies with Molly again?" she asked. Seth sometimes sat with Gambit and Molly if they were watching movies in the War Room. Seth rarely left the lower levels by himself since learning of Kimble's troubles, he was too nervous being that far from his Mistress.

"I saw a movie with her, but it wasn't anything bad. It was about this big green guy named Shrek and we laughed through most of it. The donkey was funny."

Fallen chuckled softly. She had seen the movie herself and had liked it. It was a kid's movie and there was nothing obvious there to frighten him, but dreams were funny that way. They didn't always reveal themselves for what they were.

"I miss Kimble," he complained softly. "Sometimes I think he's never coming home."

"Is that what this is about? Baby, I won't let anyone take you. No one's ever going to hurt you."

Seth was not about to confess that he'd stolen the video file from Henry, but said, "If someone stole him, somebody can steal me."

She gripped him even more tightly. "No one's taking you anywhere. There's not a soul in this house that wouldn't give up their lives to protect you, including me."

He shivered and another tear leaked out. "I don't want anyone to die. Not for me."

"No one wants to, dear, and I doubt it will ever come to that. The X-men are well known, no one would dare challenge them here. Kimble's mistake was that he left the house and it's protection. Promise me you'll never leave the grounds."

He thrashed against her, terrified. "No! I won't! Fallen!"

"Easy, easy, my love," she soothed, unconsciously flooding him with the warmth and love he desperately needed. He became still again, weeping silently against her. "Stop this now. You're safe here in this place with me. Nothing bad will happen to you, no matter what you dream."

"I love you, Fallen."

"I love you, too, baby. Do you want to get up now? I can make us some soup or something."

"No. I just want to lay here with you."

They settled down and he relaxed against her, his ear to her chest so he could hear her breathing. He was like a child in this way, needing these reminders of her presence. Fallen's hands continued to pet him but gradually grew still as he returned to sleep. His peace did little to assuage her own fears.

Fallen had been spending these past weeks in a near constant state of paranoia. She had watched as evidence of Kimble's decline continued to mount with a kind of horror. She was going along with everything Gambit wanted and what was said, but she had doubts that Kimble was as really far gone as he was presenting. To admit it was happening left her open to thoughts worse than those.

As a Dognan pilot slave, Fallen had come across a few Siskan holograms in use by her Dognan masters. They were not as bright as Kimble had been, but they had been much more stable. When she repaired Kimble while he was in her system, she had been forced to split the personality codes between the two brothers. Together the codes were whole, separate...they were not. Just the fact that Seth continued to struggle with his sensory input was proof enough that he was incomplete. It wasn't improving over time or with experience. If Kimble was in fact degrading, the same could easily happen to Seth, something she dared not contemplate for long. No, it was much easier to tell herself that this was all some kind of bad game Kimble was playing. His pain and suffering was a punishment to her for neglecting him so. He was making her suffer and it was sure to be worse once they got him home. He had always been something of a prankster and he could be at times cruel. This had to be one of those times. Her judgement was of course impaired somewhat, she refused to watch any of the video files and read none of the actual police reports. She simply didn't want to know the details.

Fallen gripped her Siskan tightly, kissing the top of his head as he lay against her. She would protect him, keep him safe from harm. He wouldn't be allowed to wander, to go about too freely. It was simply too dangerous and she wouldn't have him break. He was her lover, her son, her sanity. Nothing would get in the way of her duty to him, not even Kimble himself.


	7. Chapter 7

(Seven)

Remy sat in the limo, his eyes gleaming and a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. He was out with the boys, something that he hadn't done in a long time. They had a regular driver this time and Etienne was in the back with him, already raiding the tiny cabinet of booze that was there for the Guild clients.

Jacques and Phillipe were there as well, joking and teasing each other around, taking bets on who was going to score first. These were the younger LeBeaus, cousins from an aunt Remy hardly knew. The Guild was large and the families were huge with children. At twenty-five, Remy was already starting to feel like an old man compared to these guys. They were into completely different things and far more in tune with the changing world. Just a few minutes told him he had a lot of catching up to do on the new technologies the Guild was using in surveillance and entrance tools. He knew some computer tricks, but these guys were serious hackers that would challenge Seth in many respects.

Remy's spirits were high. He had spent most of that morning out Christmas shopping with his Tante and some of the kids. He had brought nothing down with him from New York in his haste to escape, but loved to shop for other people anyways. Just being back here and out on streets with happy people had made him almost giddy with joy and all of his woes had melted away. He should have done this a long time ago.

They came to a Club and were dropped off out front. The Guild was well known and respects paid, these LeBeaus got in without having to pay. They were escorted in and given the best table. Remy was struck by the familiarity of the place, it was a large club with multiple floors and filled with plenty of young women, the pickings would be good. He felt a surge of regret at what was around him, it was a lot like Raul's place and he missed his good friend, but mostly, he ached for Vanessa.

_You are not gonna be all moody tonight!_ he chided himself. _Dis for you to 'ave a good time an' get your stride back. Been messed up, sad an' angry for long enough._

Gambit found a seat, wanting a couple of drinks in before the prowling began in earnest. The Club was tightly packed and people would gently brush him as they passed. He found he had to put in a little effort to clamp down on all the vibrations here. Good for him, most of the folks here were happy, but it was a crowd. He didn't want to risk being swamped.

He had a flashback memory of when he and Kimble had shared files. Young Kimble had walked into a Siskan pleasure room and had paused a moment, arms outstretched to better soak up all of the happy vibrations in the place, drinking them up like wine. Remy closed his eyes and smiled, daring to open up just a little. He could hear and feel the laughter of the folks around him. It cheered him and his gloom dissipated. He was happy now and glad to be here.

Remy leaned back in his chair, delightfully buzzed from the drinks and the vibrations of happiness around him. His cousins were having a blast and he could feel their gaiety and cheeriness as well while they joked and played around with one another. He had really needed this night out and was already beginning to feel like his old self again.

"Yo, check it," Etienne said, tapping Remy's elbow. "De one in de back. She eyeballin' you, homme."

Remy looked up and saw a gorgeous brunette looking him over with great interest from the back of the room. She was dressed in a long, sleeveless, brown sparkling dress that came up to her throat. She also wore long opera gloves that covered most of her arms, something that was an instant turn on for him. It reminded him of Rogue the way she was dressed, but her eyes were all hunger and need. He was surprised by the corresponding desire in his own body. He was lonelier than he'd thought and the idea of being with this gorgeous woman was very appealing.

He still felt a tremor of fear, fear of what could happen. The truth be told, he was ready to bust a gut from holding himself back. It had been months now since he'd been with a woman, longer than he'd gone in a while. His heart was aching, he really needed the release. He needed the personal attention and the ego boost of a good lay. He would just be careful, that's all. **"****I am Gambit, Prince of T'ieves, T'ief of 'Earts,"** he muttered to himself softly in Siskan, psyching himself up.

Remy found his feet and smoothly cruised on over, hearing the laughter of his friends cheering him on from behind him. The woman smiled as he approached and they circled each other, predator and prey. "Late for sunglasses, is it not, handsome one?" she purred in halting English, her voice lightly accented.

He slid the glasses down and removed them, showing her his eyes. It was a necessary evil, he couldn't get as close to this woman as he wanted to without taking them off at some point. Better off doing it now than wasting all night on a girl who was going to freak on him at the last moment. "You so bright, chere. Gonna blind dis boy wit yo' beauty."

"Oh, my. Talks as pretty as he looks, this one," she responded, accepting his mutant appearance and pulling him close. She kissed him boldly, giving him her tongue and flooding him with her passion.

Remy staggered a little, not accustomed to this kind of attack without at least a little more foreplay. He shivered as a strong vibration of her lust and need blasted into him. He'd felt this before, oh yes. Even this far away, he couldn't escape Kimble's legacy. He swooned, drowning in her heat, feeling her desire pound right through his brain right down to his crotch. He was sprung instantly, a throbbing demanding ache that destroyed any other item on his agenda. He wanted to fuck her, right here, right now. So what if he got arrested. He had to have her, he had to feel her cum all over him. He had to, he had to...

Remy tore himself away, staggering back as he tried to regain his control. She was a mutant, an empath, and had used her power to try and seduce him, the bitch. He had always been repulsed by mind control, hating it. Like Wolverine, he was a creature of will and disliked being forced to do anything. He glared at her, a bit put out, and squinted when her shine burst out all around her and poured into him, making him feel a little buzzed onto top of being horribly, terribly aroused. They regarded each other with mutual surprise.

"**Tay esken Kundatesh! **But you--- you're human! What magic is this?" she gasped, taking a wary step backwards.

"No magic, chere," Remy replied, woozy from her power and not quite with the program. Did she just speak in Siskan? No, that was impossible. "What's goin' on?" The room was spinning.

She snatched at him and he felt her rip into his mind again. "A Hunter are you?"

"Non, chere. Jus' huntin' a good time, is all," his drunken mouth slurred in a feeble attempt at humor. He struggled to collect himself, to get his brain working. He focused on her, reaching out feebly with his power as he had with Logan. He agreed with his Tante that this power was tool he could use to his advantage if he could only learn to control it. He would give this a try. He opened his mind to it, listening with internal ears. It whispered to him, shocking him with a clear, firm voice that demanded his attention. **_/ She spoke in Siskan, find out why. Get with the game, LeBeau!_**

Gambit reeled. This he had not expected. A voice in his head? He had heard something of it when he was with Rogue that last time, but had dismissed it as a fantasy of love. Apparently, he'd been woefully mistaken. But why was he hearing it now? He wasn't having sex with this woman -- not yet anyhow -- she had merely kissed him. The kiss. Yes. She had kissed him and more. Her empathic power must have boosted his own, giving strength to it and allowing it to boldly communicate with him.

"Touched by one of the Kintay du Lushna-esk, you've been!" the woman in front of him gasped ominously, snapping him from his thoughts. Her eyes had gone wide and her emotions swamped him, drowning him. Her emotions tumbled into him in a rush --- she was afraid, she was intrigued by him, she was much too wary to ask him for anything more. It was enough to clear his head and that helpful voice began to get through. /**_/She thinks you want to harm her somehow. Find out why, you idiot!_**

" 'Ey! Where you goin'?" he shouted after her as she bolted from him in fear.

"Hey, Remy! You losin' your touch, old man!" at least one of his friends cackled at her sudden flight, but he wasn't listening. He took off after her, but was losing ground in the crowd. There were too many people in here. That and it was amazingly difficult to run with a raging hard on. Her touch had set his body on fire, it was still burning, even now.

They raced through the back of the room and out through the kitchen, bringing startled cries from the help. She ran out through one of the service doors and outside into the alley behind the Club. He followed her, slamming the door open with his speed and she took off, fleet of foot as she left her shoes behind.

"Espe're!" he shouted uselessly. "Wait! Gambit just want to talk to you!"

He watched with dull surprise as she leapt up suddenly with telekinetic grace and began to climb the wrought iron fire escape towards the roof. Figures. He wasn't going to catch a break, not this night. He jumped up and gave chase as best he could, grunting and wheezing from the effort. He had removed the splint on his wrist, not finding it really fashionable, but cursed that decision now. He could feel small bolts of pain shooting through his arm as he pulled himself up.

She was very fast and he was quickly left behind. When he got to the top, she was nowhere to be seen. He was startled when he found her dress on the rooftop beside her gloves and he picked it up, sliding the smooth silky material through his hands as his mind raced with questions. Why had she stripped down?

He looked around him, figuring she had taken off to the sky, but paused when he saw a woman shaped shimmer silhouetted against the brick of the housing for the stairs. There was his answer. She could hide herself but not her dress and so had abandoned it. Their brief exchange of the "charm power" had done more than cause a little voice to speak to him, it had turned on that invisible switch in his mind and he could see her now. She had blended into the shadows of the night, her body a chameleon against the bricks. She would be invisible to anyone who couldn't see the shines as he did. This mutant girl had quite the range of talents --- chameleon, empath, telekinetic --- oh, and instant aphrodisiac.

"Paisible maintenant. Easy, chere," he said softly, maintaining the distance between them. "You an' me, we got off on de wrong foot, Gambit's t'inkin'."

"See me, you can?" she whispered in wonder, moving away a little.

"Sure. Got touched by an angel. Now Gambit sees de shines. 'E's t'inkin' mebbe you do, too. Look at 'im real 'ard, you see dis boy don' mean you no harm," he said, doing his best to charm her and make her see he wasn't a threat.

"Who are you?"

"M' name's Remy LeBeau. I'm jus' a boy passin' t'rough. Nuthin' more."

"You've lain with another like me. Felt it I did!"

"Now Gambit, 'e gets around some. You gonna 'ave to be more specific dere, girl," he teased smoothly, trying to set her at ease. He wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about. Remy had always been a little loose when he and Rogue were 'off'. He got around. He'd like to think he would remember a girl like this, but no one came immediately to mind. Her garbled speech reminded him a little of Yoda from Star Wars. That alone would have made her memorable, but he had no clue who she was.

The woman slowly came away from the wall and her skin shifted back to normal. She was naked and beautiful with lightly tanned skin like a California girl. Her lovely breasts were covered with a massive ornate tattoo, just as Fallen's were. The difference was, instead of an emerald, winged woman along the sword, she had a brown winged woman with two tools crossed over her chest, a pick and shovel beautifully made to show power and strength.

Remy's eyes opened wide. _She was talkin' 'bout Kimble! She Siskan! What she doin 'ere? Gambit's gonna find out, dat's one you can count on! _"Gambit seen sumptin' like dat, sure. De green."

"Channeler," the woman recited as if she had some knowledge of this.

Gambit's curiosity surged as did his hope. He remembered how Leon had spoken that word as well, it was part of this thing Kimble was to become. Apparently she knew about it, too. What an unexpected surprise. Guess this trip had been worth it after all. He gave her his best charming smile and went right to work. "Now you got dis boy at a disadvantage, fille. You know 'is name, but 'e don' know yours."

"Babette I am called. I am a Builder."

"Sounds like you a girl with a career choice made. You wanna fill Gambit in on what's goin' on?" he teased in spite of not having a clue what she was talking about. He came closer to her, taking her in. Her Mark was very striking, but he thought not as nice as Kimble's.

"You don't know? Recognize the Mark, you do," she said with suspicion.

"Gambit's guessin' my good buddy Kimble didn' get de memo. 'E had no clue about bein' any kind of Guardian."

"That's impossible. A Master we all have."

Remy groaned inside. Everyone but Kimble. He didn't think for a moment that Sabretooth really counted, even if the freak called himself one.

"Kimble got a little sidetracked, is all, chere. He on 'is own."

"In danger he is."

_Tell me sumptin' I don' know, Yoda girl! _Gambit thought impatiently. "Mebbe you can 'elp me 'elp 'im, neh? Gambit didn' get de memo either."

"How do I know you're not a Hunter, me?"

"Did I kiss like a 'Unter?" he challenged, giving her a winning smile.

She laughed, charmed. "Of course you do. But as a Hunter of Siskans? Perhaps not."

He grinned at her tease. "Honestly, girl. Gambit come 'ere for a dance an' a drink, dat's all. He didn' expect to find you 'ere, but now 'e's got you...shall we say, in 'is sights..." he leered at her shimmering naked body with appreciation, "P'etetre, you an' me can go somewhere quiet an' talk."

She raised an eyebrow at him and arched her back seductively. "Just talk?"

"Well, Gambit...he never one to turn down anyt'ing more, chere. 'Specially not from one as lovely as you."

"Who is this Gambit you keep speaking of, you?" she asked playfully. She had relaxed now and wasn't so defensive. He had won her over for the moment. The boy still had his natural talent for gaining trust.

Remy laughed. "I'm Gambit an' Gambit is me, chere. We are de same."

"Like the way you talk, I do," she said, coming close to reclaim her dress. She brushed up against him deliberately and once more Remy felt her need. She was so like Kimble this way, it was coming off of her in waves. He was a little more prepared for it now and it didn't swamp him, it just renewed the throbbing in his groin. It didn't escape her notice. She stroked him playfully, making him shudder with desire. "The rest of you I like, too, me."

She kissed him again and flooded him with her power, laughing when he groaned and clutched at her. "Not just yet," she teased and withdrew, taking her dress. She slid it back over herself like a sleeve and smiled at him as she walked over to the edge of the building. She looked down over the edge. "My poor shoes, mine..."

Remy took a step, his sides heaving as he struggled for air, for control. He couldn't let her blow him away. There was too much he needed to know. "Dat's no problem. Gambit a good t'ief. Le meilleur. Best in town. He get you some more."

"Then let's go, us," she said and scooped him up, throwing them both over the edge. He flailed wildly, momentarily forgetting she was telekinetic, but then laughed as she caught them. "For a mutant, jumpy you are!" she teased once more, kissing him again.

"Yeah, Gambit gets dat a lot," he laughed and took her hand as they landed safely down at the street. He yanked her playfully out onto the sidewalk and they ran down the street towards some shops with large windows. She was laughing gaily and he knew he was right about her. She was like Kimble had been, out here on the loose looking for kicks. He was getting the idea perhaps her Master didn't even know she was out. He stopped in front of a shoe store. It had a large glass display window with many expensive shoes spread out. "See anyt'ing you like?"

"That pair in the front, me. Right size, you think?"

"P'etetre, p'etetre non. Let's find out, us?" he replied playfully in a gentle tease, making her smile.

The store was closed and it was quite late, but Remy didn't care. He reached into a coat pocket and took out a small box. It held a diamond glass cutter on a suction cup. He licked the cup with an eager tongue, giving her the eyes, and stuck it on the glass. He took the cutter and fast as lightning, made a rapid circular motion and the piece of glass was his. He lifted it out carefully and removed the cutter silently, faster than she could see. He snatched at the shoes she had selected and the alarm went off.

"Losin' my touch!" he complained merrily and they were off and running again.

Babette squealed with laughter and they melted away into the night, already a distant memory by the time the cops showed up. They ran a short distance then slipped into an alley way. The shoes were a little big, but Babette didn't care. She fastened them as tightly as possible and they were off, arm in arm. She allowed this bright young man to lead her, curious what he was about but already certain what the night's ending would be. She wouldn't be disappointed.


	8. Chapter 8

(Eight)

Remy was a man with a plan and put it immediately into action. He brought his prize to a nice hotel close by, one he had frequented often in his younger, Rogue free days. He bought them the nicest room, ordering out for Room Service. He was sure to get something chocolate.

He was brim full of questions, but now that he had her trust, didn't want to push the issue. They would play and the questions would come later. He was a thief, a very good one, and he would steal his answers if he had to.

"Vous estes si joli, fille. Si beau, mon chere..." he whispered as he fed her chocolate and then made love to her. Gambit, ever the optimist, was so sure of his ability to connive and manipulate, that he truly believed he was in control of the situation. He slid that shimmering dress off of her and tossed it onto the floor carelessly as he dove into her, recklessly putting himself at risk.

The poor fool. He wasn't prepared for the strength of her desire and power.

From the moment his bare skin hit hers, he was all done. Babette's empathy was surprisingly powerful and she commanded him, taking him over almost immediately. There was one awkward moment when she saw his scars and was momentarily frightened enough for her control to temporarily slip.

He shushed her gently, whispered some soft reassurance, and then was swamped again when she was suddenly in his mind, flooding him with lust on a scale he had never felt before. It hit that part of his mind that had been driving him crazy lately with its strange cravings, finding a kindred spirit that seemed to leap for joy at what she was offering him. Her body seemed to whisper to him that it had what he'd been needing all this time and all he had to do was reach out and take it.

He did.

He caved instantly to the needs of his body like a Crack addict seeing a fix and took her roughly, making her laugh with happiness at his enthusiasm. He plunged into her and that crazy duality smashed into him instantly. At first things were normal, he felt himself making love to her but then he felt the slip and slide of himself inside of her as she felt it, as if he were the woman receiving him. He had anticipated it to a point because of his experiences with the Boston whores and braced himself, he wasn't as badly frightened by it because he suspected it might be coming. His lack of fear boosted the rush even more. There was nothing like it, like this, and his body couldn't handle it for long. He climaxed ridiculously early, blacking out almost immediately.

He woke a brief time later to her soft laughter. "Amusing that was, my dear," she chided gently. "But need a little more, me."

"Bien entendu. Oui, chere..." he stammered lamely and she was kissing him again, robbing his mouth of all words. He was a little freaked out from blacking out and at how easily he'd been manipulated. He knew normal empathy could be as strong as telepathy depending on the user, but this was the first time he'd ever been controlled by it. Always he had resisted mind control, but here, he felt he had to give in a little to get what he wanted. That strange craving was back, more intensely than before, and he lost all reason, needing her again. His lack of resistance made this all the easier for her. He was the toy here, used for her sole amusement and had no say in the matter. He gave in willingly enough, all of his questions evaporated from her powerful kisses and they were back to playing the game.

His earlier heat was gone so he lasted longer this time, but he got no closer to those answers he so desperately wanted. No, all she did was give him a whole new list of questions. Her power stroked his mind and he realized on some dim level that she was controlling him completely, using his strange craving to her advantage. While he had once considered the possibility that Kimble's empathy was slightly different from the normal empathy of humans, he had no idea Kimble's power could be so powerful and manipulative.

He was her servant, all complaints evaporating as she made him feel pleasure like he'd never felt it before. She rode his waves of ecstacy, building his lust once more. She kissed him and took him in her mouth, making him shiver and shake like thunder. Just when he thought he couldn't take it any more, she'd back off in a tease and let him simmer some more. She was tormenting him with orgasmic pleasure and he was crazy for it.

He had gotten around, Remy had. He had learned a lot from that experience and it was often the case that when he was with a girl, he was theone in charge, conducting how it was going to go. That wasn't the situation here. All of his resistance was gone and he did as he was told, as she wanted him to do. He was completely submissive to her, an all new experience for him. His reward was a backwash of ecstacy on a level that could hardly be measured. Never had he been touched so well, stroked to such perfection. His skills looked like those of a newborn child compared to her vast knowledge. All those things he usually had to ask for from others, she already knew. The secret places to touch, to lick, to kiss. He shivered from every caress, from each stroke of her hands on his body. He had never been fucked so well, so completely. It was more than he could take. He climaxed violently again, shaking hard and blacking out once more, the new norm for his body's response to cumming so intensely.

It took him longer this time to wake. He raised his head, drool leaking from his mouth, completely bewildered. He had no idea what day it was or how long he'd been here. He wasn't sure if he knew who he was anymore. Babette was there beside him, petting him gently like a dog. "Poor dear, you. How tired you must be."

"Uhnn..." It was ungraceful, hardly a response worthy of a LeBeau --- and it was all he could manage.

"Very good, you are," she replied, her eyes wistful. "Aiden would eat you up like candy."

"Who?" he slurred, his uncooperative tongue barely capable of articulating the question.

"A good friend, mine. Never mind. Hungry, are you?"

He was ravenous. He sat up drunkenly, his hair a total mess and his legs still shaking. He was hopelessly trashed. He blinked blearily as she handed him food and he ate it, at first mechanically, but then was smiling as the flavor of it seeped into him. He had taken some illegal drugs in his life, enough to know he was stoned now for sure. He was fogged, drugged, not even close to being on the top of his game. He didn't really mind, not at the moment. Nothing else felt like this, like what she had done to him. The food tasted grand and he ate well, pleasing her. He knew this because her shine told him so. It was speaking to him loudly now, enjoying his receptiveness. Her power was talking to his power like two long lost lovers. She spoke to him with no words, yet her message was quite clear to him_.** /You please me, Remy. I love you, Remy. Hurry up and eat so I can have you again, Remy. Yes, that's a good boy./**_

He ate his food and giggled like a child when she next dragged him into the shower. The heat of it felt good and he found a new joy, washing her. He cleaned her with skill, kissing her and tasting her all over again. Nothing felt as good as his hands sliding over her warm wet skin, slick with soap. She shivered and moaned, calling his name softly as she flooded him with the desire to please her.

Remy was only dimly aware of what was happening to him. He was making love to a living hologram, an empathic Siskan like Kimble, and she had used her power to control him completely, to bend him to her will. One small core center of his mind was screaming, rebellious against this strange slavery. If it wasn't for the backwash and the pleasure, he would be fighting this a lot more vigorously. It was this little Crack addict in him that was supporting this the most, as much as she seemed to be filling that void, it remained, begging for more, for something just out of reach.

He took her again in the shower, not caring when the hot water was gone. He couldn't resist her spell, her magic. It touched him in more than one place. It found that part of him that had been so miserable these past days and filled that huge void with an endless supply of pleasure and want. He could touch this woman without fear, she wasn't going to blow up, not her nor the room about them. If that cataclysmic event he had dreamed about was going to happen, it would have already. He hadn't been holding anything back - how could he in his current state of helplessness -- but yet he never even felt a spark of energy leave his fingers nor did he whiff anything even start to burn. He was blacking out but that was all. He could enjoy this woman completely without fear of hurting her or himself. Just that one freedom returned to him meant so very much. He was a sexual animal, had been all his life, and he would never have tried to deny it. She was giving back to him a part of himself that he had try to shut down. It was fiercely liberating and he let go, allowing her to take him in every way she desired. He submitted to her will freely, weeping from the freedom she had given him.

Babette was having a blast, enjoying his attention thoroughly, but wouldn't let him finish her there in the shower, she was worried he would black out again and fall, injuring himself. She dashed away from him and he gave chase. They played like children, throwing pillows at each other and jumping on the bed. She laughed and laughed and he with her, trapped in this surreal dream. They fell to the floor in a tangle of blankets and sheets, giddy with laughter, and then he was making love to her again, this time slowly and with a strange kind of real love.

He was lost as her heat and heartbeat swelled up inside of his head, more powerfully than before. It made Rogue's love for him pale in comparison, making it feel false and not worthy of him. Babette was all he saw. It was as if they had a bond now, not unlike the one he had with Kimble. He was in thrall to her and would do anything she desired. There was only one thing she wanted. "Cum for me, Remy. Cum for me, there's a good boy. Yes!"

He was filled to the brim with more ecstacy and passion than he could contain and he climaxed with a sharp cry to her soft laughter. He'd been played and used and at this moment of pure bliss, he couldn't have cared less. He blacked out again, his mind numb.

He woke moments later, his body shaking and his mind gone. He was done now, he had reached his limit. First of all, he had never gone off so many times in such rapid succession in so little time. It never would have happened without her mental influence and his body was wasted. But there was more. He shivered against her and clung to her like a child, all of his mental defenses stripped away. It was a hard fall from an unnatural high. He lay bare, open to her and she saw into his mind and knew of his pain. His need for love and acceptance resonated like an instrument and she played it, calming him and loving him. She embraced him willingly, touching him and soothing him like no other. "Don't be afraid," she whispered softly, cradling him like a baby.

He shivered there, weak. He was frightened by how easily she had torn through all of his barriers. The Professor, a powerful telepath, had trouble getting through his mental defenses, even when Remy had first come to be with the X-men. "What did you do t' me?" he gasped, unable to control his trembling.

"Very receptive to the backwash, you are. Sorry am I. Wrong about you I was," she said softly with wonder. "This pain you have is like no other I have felt. You never lay with your Siskan, you? Or felt this before, you would have."

"Non. 'E ask an I say non."

"Whatever for? Love him you do. Felt this I did," she asked with genuine surprise.

"I was afraid," he replied, being very candid in spite of her being a complete stranger. It was a result of the barriers being tossed away. "Stupid, huh?"

"Yes," she agreed, running her hands through his thick, auburn hair and giving him another calming, reassuring vibration. "He would never have hurt you, him. Where is he now?"

"Someone stole him from me," he said softly, almost crying. She had blown his mind and with it, all of his control. His grief was all too obvious. "Gambit's been lookin' all over. I can't find 'im."

"Found his angel he has?"

"Ain't sure. Don' know what 'is angel is." He looked up at her. "Can you 'elp me?"

"Perhaps my Master can. All I can say, until he finds his angel, he won't be harmed, him."

"You...you find your angel?"

"Not yet. My Master said that know what it is I will, when I find it. Until then, no clue have I what I'm looking for, me. Maybe it's you," she teased.

Remy snorted playfully, still trying to play the game. Truth was, he didn't know if he was going to cry or scream or both. "Doubt dat. Dis boy been 'cuzed of may t'ings, but bein' an angel...dat's a new one." He changed tack, wanting more. "Who's yo' Master? Are dere more Siskans dere like you?"

"Trishnar my Master is and, yes, there are six of us."

Gambit couldn't hide his relief that she didn't belong to Jael. Perhaps he could use this. "Can you take me to see yo' Master? Gambit gotta speak wit 'im."

"No. Didn't know I was out, him. Get in trouble I will."

"You 'ave to 'elp me find Kimble, Babette, s'il vous plait!" he pleaded, disgusted with his own apparent weakness. He was used to being suave and in control as he seduced answers from his prey, but at this moment he was at his wits end. He was trembling and thrashing a little. He had taken this risk in an effort to gain answers and had achieved nothing for it, something new for him.

She felt it and kissed him to calm him down. "Relax, relax. Just need some time, me. Have you a number where reach you I can, me?"

He reached down into the snarl of his clothing and retrieved a small business card. It only had his name and cell phone number written on it. He scrawled the address of the Xavier school on the back with the hotel pen. "Dis where I live."

"Long way from home you are."

"Came down N'Orleans way to see my father."

"See what I can do I will," she said, kissing him and pulling away. "Sleep now."

"Wait!" he cried, tugging on her arm. "I need --"

She leaned down and kissed him again, silencing his protests. As she released him she whispered, "Sorry about the backwash, me. Feel better in the morning you will. I promise. **Sleep**."

At her final word, Remy felt a switch get pulled in his mind and he was instantly asleep.

Babette stood over him a minute, brushing his hair back. This one was truly lovely, a treasure. She was glad she'd found him tonight. It was true she'd been sneaking out as Kimble had been. Like him, her need for that love and acceptance was much too strong for her to be contained. This tumble had been better than most. The majority of men she had found were boring business men with nothing very exciting to say. This one...he'd been full of life, of adventure. It was a shame the backwash had undone the poor boy, it had seriously boosted the rush for her. She felt tingly, alive. She decided she would do his favor and speak with her Master. She didn't really fear his wrath for sneaking out, he was a good man, not a monster like Creed. Her Master was wise, he would know what to do.

--------------------------------------------------

Gambit groaned and woke to loud thumping on his door. "Juz'a minnute..." he wheezed, staggering to his feet. He had no clue where he was, his eyes barely registered the hotel furnishings around him. If the thumping hadn't been so insistent, he would have ignored it.

He got halfway to the door before he realized he was naked. He grabbed the sheet from the floor (it had been raped from the bed for that last tumble on the floor) and sloppily wrapped it around himself as he staggered to the door. He was in a total fog and had no real clue what was going on. He opened the door a crack and peered out into the face of a maid. "Eh? What you want, chere?"

"Housekeepin', Sugah," she said, grinning at him. She called to her friend. "Hey, Shirl, look at dis po' boy. He done had himself too good a night, uh huh."

The other maid came closer and squinted at him. "Well, look it 'ere. If it isn't young Master Remy LeBeau not so young anymore. Ain't seen your shinin' face 'round 'ere in while, son."

Remy opened the door a little wider and grinned, still the clown even in his fog. He smiled at his favorite maid from this well known hotel. He used to come here quite frequently in his younger, wilder days. "Bonjour. Little early fo' dis, ain't it, Shirl?"

She just laughed. "It's well after noon, son. You got a half hour 'til checkout. We'll be nice an' give you a chance ta wash up some. Just 'cause it's you," she said and moved on, shaking her head at him with a smile.

He closed the door, thumping his head against the wood and just leaned there, too wasted to move. His body was one huge bruise, aching as if he'd had one hell of a workout in the Danger Room. Babette had worked him over good. Speaking of which, he glanced around him to see if she was still here. She wasn't, the room was empty. No real surprise there, it wasn't the first time he woke up alone and it probably wouldn't be the last. Hopefully she would call him.

He sighed, still exhausted, but tingly all over in a good way. He casually wondered if it would be possible for him to ever have normal sex again. Would he enjoy it without the backwash and the blackouts? He shuddered from remembered arousal, stunned his body had anything left to respond with. His head thumped against the door again as he began to laugh, his spirits higher than a kite.

_You one sick boy now, dat's fo' sure. Kimble done ripped you apart,_ he thought to himself, unable to stop the giddy laughter coming from him. It had been so long since he'd heard it, not with the intense happiness he was feeling now. He felt good, so good to be alive. He wiped his eyes and answered his own anxious thought with a joyful one. _Yeah, but it sure feel good. It like nuthin' else._

He groaned again and got his butt moving. He had to shower and get out of here. No one knew where he was, it was time to head on home before they sent the cavalry after him.

He made his way to the shower, reviving as the hot water washed over him. His mind was waking, too, and running over with questions. What was another Siskan doing here? She had nothing to do with Fallen and must have gotten here by some other means. She had said she belonged to someone other than Jael. Just how many people were living here collecting these special holograms? Was her Master even human?

Some small part of him, the one in tune with his new gift answered his question for him/_**/No. Trishnar doesn't sound like a human name to me. But you are wise to consider him important. Perhaps he is someone you can use to help you find your Kimble.** **Pursue him./**_

Gambit balked a little, surprised to hear this voice again so clearly. It suddenly occurred to him that when Babette gave him a boost with her power, it had been a permanent thing. What else had she done to change him? He swallowed his fear and sent out another question. _Who's dis talkin' to me?_

The voice was playful and coy, just like himself. **_/Give me a name and I will tell you./_**

_Give you a name? _Gambit asked in confusion, but then paused. What had his Tante said? "Give it a name and make it your friend."

_Okay, chere. Gambit play yo' game. You sound like a girl to me, Gambit call you Shi'ow-ri._

_**/The Whisperer in Siskan? Yes, I rather like that. It's appropriate. I'm the Whisperer. I'm here to help you. Let's have another question shall we? Did you like what Babette did for you? Imagine that feeling and Kimble. What does it make you think?**_

He chuckled softly now, enjoying having someone to bounce ideas off of, even if was just himself going mad. He recalled pleasantly how easily he had been controlled by Babette. It had been very nice, actually. Was that how it was for Sabretooth at the hands of his Kimble?

**_/No,_** Shi'ow-ri replied in her soft gentle whisper.**_ /Creed would never lie submissive. This is how Kimble feels. He is subservient, but rewarded. He felt his Master's love and was ensnared. This is what it's like to be possessed, to be taken over. He won't fight it, just as you did not. The only reason you are free now is because Babette walked away./_**

Gambit shuddered a little at that thought. She was gone and yet he couldn't wait to have her again. He grumbled, banishing that kind of thinking. He would have to tail her, he couldn't trust her to speak to her Master on his behalf. Trouble was, how would he find her again?

**_/Don't get off point, the fucking is done. I was talking about Kimble/ _**she scolded playfully with a laugh.** _/If Kimble is in thrall to his Master, you've got some serious work cut out for you. He won't be so easily taken away. You will have to harden yourself for battle, dear one. It won't be easy to bring him back to you...or painless./_**

_You gonna 'elp me do fo' 'im?_ _Gambit need all de 'elp 'e can get, chere._

**_/Of course. What else are friends for?_**


	9. Chapter 9

(Nine)

Logan was huffing and puffing in the gym, lifting weights. He had a huge grin on his face, Max had come to join him. Max had been recently promoted, going up in rank through the system and preparing for the trails to be placed on a regular squad. He attended regular scheduled Danger Room sessions to get in tune with his teachers on the senior staff, but had also taken Wolverine's advice and was here trying to bulk up and build muscles on his tiny frame. It was working and in a short time, he was already showing some good definition and had gained almost twenty pounds.

"Just ten more reps, boy. Yer doin' good."

Max wheezed and grunted on a matching bench beside that of his new trainer and mentor. "I can do it. I can do it!" he gasped in between reps, psyching himself up.

Maylee was here as well. She was seated comfortably on a mat beside Max, her head buried in a book as always. She was unbelievably intelligent and rapidly cruising through the courses here at the school. Henry was kept busy creating private lessons for her and tutoring her in the lab. Once fully trained, she would be an asset to the team. They were woefully understaffed when it came to mutant medical officers. If Seth wasn't so unsteady, he might have gotten tagged as another doctor in waiting because of his ability to learn so quickly. Unfortunately, he was much too wobbly and unsure with the tools so Henry's next hope dwelled within this tiny cat like girl. She felt she was more than up to the challenge, much to Beast's relief.

She paused from her reading to glance up at her boyfriend. Such a funny word. She had never imagined such a thing happening to her. Back with the Clan, she was considered a half breed and ugly. Here, she was simply another mutant in a school for them. Her appearance upset no one, in fact it had turned the head of this fine young boy. He was older than her, but less mature, it kind of leveled the playing field. He was quick to laugh, but serious about his studies here. He wanted to be on the team and was very dedicated, just as she was to her own work.

Maylee was kept out of the information loop as far as Kimble went, but Max told her some things. Kimble was in trouble again, he'd done something bad and the only thing saving his ass was some deal the X-men had made with SHIELD. If and when he was returned, he would probably have to stay in the holding cells a while. It all meant little to her, Kimble was far away from her and not really a part of her life anymore, she just didn't like how Seth was so sad all the time. She had made a point of being around Seth as much as possible, he helped her with her homework and was teaching her some computer skills. She was enjoying his company, but was also making sure he was okay. Seth had a lot of friends looking out for him.

Logan laughed at Max's mantra and they finished the set. Max sat up and flapped his wings to get his blood flowing. It was hard laying down when you have something attached to your back. "Tomorrow again?"

"Nah. Don't wanna push it too hard. We'll do laps in the pool."

"Right," Max agreed and rose to shake Logan's hand before heading to the showers. He brushed his hand over Maylee's head as he passed, a gentle caress. He would wash and then they'd go outside and have lunch.

_What a good kid, _Logan thought as his young charge walked away. _Could use some more like him around here._

A week had passed and still no sign of Kimble. Jael had been active, though. Here it was, just after Christmas now, and there had been three more bombings, all in the densely populated shopping malls packed with holiday shoppers. The guy had no class, no class at all. Whatever remorse he may have shown in Logan's presence over his little virus clearly hadn't lasted. Logan started to rise for his own shower, but paused when he saw Henry approach him, a crinkled newspaper in his large blue hand.

"Have you seen today's paper?"

"Nope. Got up too early."

Logan took it and cocked his head at the front page. There was a large photograph of a fire truck heading on its way to help with one of the bombings. That wasn't what caught his attention, it was its passenger. It seemed one of the New York fire departments had a new and interesting mascot. This was no Dalmatian, it was a Dognan pilot.

She sat on the top of the truck, her tiny head almost lost under a large fireman's hat, her wings outstretched behind her in the breeze from their travel and a huge smile on her face. According to the article, her name was Meer, a word she kept repeating often. One of the firemen had found her on the street, lost and confused. She spoke no English, but had formed a close bond with the man who found her, a fireman named Bob Kenna. He treated her as a mascot, or more like a dog, and she had become part of the squad. She was in the paper because she had made a daring rescue from one of the malls. She had flown up to an area no mere human could reach and had bravely brought down some people who were trapped.

Logan grinned and rose to walk over to the intercom over by the door. He dialed Fallen's extension and asked her to come up.

-----------------------------------------

Logan, Jean and Fallen walked into the fire station taking a look around. They hadn't snuck in , they were here in broad daylight, looking to get an interview with Bob Kenna, the man mentioned in the newspaper. Logan and Jean were dressed in suits with Fallen disguised by an image inducer as a photographer. Logan had grumbled about having to dress up, but Jean insisted. They were posing as SHIELD agents and SHIELD agents didn't dress in jeans and cowboy boots the last she'd checked. He grudgingly complied, nervously fiddling with the tight collar of his dress shirt on the way here. Fallen thought the whole thing was hilarious and had to snap some quick shots of Logan before they left the Mansion. It was the only time she'd ever seen him in a suit and wanted some kind of evidence it had actually happened. He took it in stride, grinning.

At the station, Jean approached Bob Kenna. Just their luck, he was in one of the open truck bays, stowing away some equipment on one of the massive ladder trucks. She recognized him right away from his photograph and called out to him, getting his attention. She held up a SHIELD badge. "Bob Kenna? My name is Jean Grey. I work for SHIELD," she said, not exactly lying. This was one of those grey crossover areas they had worked out with SHIELD, their badges were real. "I'd like to talk to you about Meer."

"You ain't takin' 'er," Bob replied immediately without fear, crossing his arms over his chest. He didn't even look at her badge, he boldly met her eyes in a respectful challenge. He was a large man, well built. He was a career fireman and had the large, strong body to prove it.

Jean just smiled at him disarmingly. "We're not here to take her from you. However, we are interested in where you found her."

"Why's that?" His voice wasn't exactly friendly, but he wasn't rude. He didn't trust them one bit but at the same time had a hard time keeping his eyes off of the gorgeous telepath in front of him.

Jean was a showstopper and she knew it. Her smile was pleasant and friendly, working the man as she said, "We have reason to believe she might once have belonged to Jael."

Bob started to laugh, but stopped when he saw she was completely serious. "Why's that?"

Jean looked around the busy station. "Can we go somewhere more private?"

He balked at that, still not ready to just take their word for anything, and this time Jean was forced to give him a slight mental push. He blinked, somewhat resistant, and his brow creased in confusion. He looked behind him, there was an empty office that way.

"That would be fine," Jean responded as if he'd actually spoken.

Logan cracked a smile, he couldn't help it. Jean sure knew how to get what she wanted.

"This way, " Bob said with a gesture towards the back. He was doing as Jean wanted but he rubbed his temple now, like he had a headache.

Jean and the group followed, the telepath keeping a close eye on their leader. Jean had wanted Bob compliant but not stupefied. She knew all she had to do was show him Fallen undisguised and all would be well, but she wasn't about to do it in view of the street. She didn't want to control Bob, she wanted him to come to terms with this on his own, a big mental push would make that impossible. It was a credit to her training that she could manipulate the big fireman without having to take him over.

They entered the office and Logan closed the door, pulling the window shade to the door down for privacy. Once more Bob faced them with little fear. "Okay, now what?"

Jean gestured to Fallen. "Show him."

Fallen nodded and clicked her image inducer to 'off.'

Bob took one look at an undisguised Fallen and grunted in surprise. He could see she was the same as Meer."Okay."

He opened the door and whistled sharply, looking to the floor above them. Instantly there was a corresponding bark from a short distance away. They heard some thumping from the next floor and then some happy squealing. "She likes the pole," Bob explained with a short laugh, rolling his eyes as if speaking of a child, his face happy at the sound his pilot had made.

They heard the clicking of claws on the cement floor of the station and Meer came in, her face one huge smile. She trotted up to Bob on her tiny hands and pawed feet and jumped up on him just like a dog. "**Meer! Meer**!" she chirped. "**Kialay chur! Chur! Meer**!"

Fallen laughed softly.

"What," Logan growled.

"She speaks Dognan. It's been a while since I've heard it."

Bob cocked his head at her. "She's speakin'?"

"Yeah. It's broken, like a child. She's not as well made as I was, no offense."

Bob cocked his head. "Made?"

"Never mind that," Logan interrupted. He turned to Fallen."What's she sayin'?"

Fallen tapped on Meer's shoulder and said to her in Dognan, **_"_****_What's your name, little one?" _**

Meer turned, her eyes going wide at the Dognan words, and trembled in fear.

"**_Don't be afraid, Meer. I won't hurt you." _**

"**_Kialay happy. Happy. No go." _**

Fallen laughed.

"What?" This time it was Bob who asked.

"Her name is Kailay. "Meer" means happy. She's very happy here and doesn't want to go."

"Then she's stayin'."

"Like I said," Jean interrupted. "We're not here to take her. We just want to see if she can tell us anything."

"Kialay, " Fallen said, returning to the pilot. **_"_****_Do you know where your Master is?" _**

"**_Meer call,"_** the pilot said defiantly.

"**_Okay, you are Meer now. That's okay. Do you remember this man?"_** Fallen held up a sketch drawing of Jael. One of the Professor's students with artist skills had worked with Logan to draw it out for him after he'd been kidnapped. They wanted some kind of record of what this terrorist looked like. No one else they knew about besides Remy and Logan had seen Jael and lived.

Meer smiled. **_"_****_Big Master. No play." _**

"_**No fun, huh? He wouldn't play with you? Is that why you ran away?" **_

"_**No play. No happy. Happy now." **_

"_**Yes, I can see that. You will stay here because you are happy. We need to find the Big Master. Can you take us?" **_

Meer frowned. **_"No go." _**

"_**I promise you can stay here. We just need you to take us to the Big Master. Then you can come back here and ride all the fire trucks you want." **_

"_**Meer knows." **_

Fallen couldn't help the smile that broke out. She looked at Logan. "Call Fury. She knows."

Logan nodded and reached for his cell phone. He would arrange a meeting, he wasn't about to discuss this on an open line where Jael's spies might overhear.

Meer took advantage of the lull in conversation to reach out and touch Fallen's chest and the tattoo there. **_"Green. Meer red see." _**

"_**Excuse me?" **_

"_**Meer red see." **_

"_**You've seen a Mark like this, only red?" **_

Meer nodded. "**_Red. Brown." _**

"_**Red and brown? On a pilot like us?" **_

Meer shook her head. **_"_****_Man. Woman." _**

"_**Humans?" **_

Meer nodded.

"What was that?" Logan asked when he saw the look of surprise on Fallen's face. He'd been put on hold and was waiting.

"She's seen another Mark. A red one and a brown. I think she saw one on a man and the other on a woman."

Logan grunted. "Anya said there were more Guardians."

"What did she mean by the Marks?" Bob asked.

"We're not sure. We're looking for someone who has a big tattoo like Fallen there. Sounds like Meer might have seen him or others like him," Wolverine explained.

"What? Is he a pilot, too?"

"Yes," Jean replied. It was the easiest explanation.

"If all the pilots have a Mark, why doesn't Meer?"

"Only pilots of high Clan rank have the Mark," Fallen said quickly. "Meer is kind of low on the pole. It doesn't make her bad, she just didn't earn the Mark."

"So Jael is collecting pilots?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"Why?"

Fallen raised her hands and made them glow blue with Ristle. Meer chirped and laughed, standing up to do the same. They reached out to one another and bolts of blue lightening burst from their hands to form a circuit between them. Their powers canceled each other out and they were unharmed. It kinda tickled actually. Meer laughed and laughed. Bob stepped back, his eyes wide in amazement. He had never seen Meer do this. "Holy crap!"

"He wants her as a power source," Fallen replied.

"Then...then Meer isn't a mutant is she? I mean...neither are you," he asked Fallen.

"That's classified," Logan said with a grin.


	10. Chapter 10

(Ten)

Later that same day, Wolverine stood with Nick Fury, his face oddly happy. They were inside a large semi-trailer parked near an open manhole in the street. The trailer was loaded with SHIELD agents and X-men. This gathering had been hastily arranged just this afternoon, an ad hoc entry and demolition team. They were here to bust Jael if they could and were trying to consolidate their forces without tipping the terrorist off. No one was so foolish as to believe the guy didn't have anyone watching his back doors.

It was clear Logan had missed this kind of military gathering. He had a wide grin on his face and was joking around and laughing with Fury about old times. Everyone around them was decked out in military gear and fierce looking. This was sport, a hunt.

Charles had sent the Blue squad to back up SHIELD on this, not fooling around. Jael was in command of an army of powerful mutants, SHIELD would need the help. Logan was here with Jean, Scott, Bobby, Rogue and Angel. They were part of the same crew that ran the tunnels when the Morlock Massacre happened and had some experience in the tunnels. Other X-men from the large team were outside, mingling with some of the SHIELD agents and getting ready.

Max was here as well, but only as an observer and backup if necessary. He was much too young and untrained to go down into the tunnels. He would stay here in the truck and learn all he could about co-ordinating teams like this. He would watch their progress on the video monitors with Fury's men. He sat comfortably on a small swivel chair, looking up at everyone with rapt attention.

Angel wasn't so casual. He stood nervously, flexing his wings in an uneasy fidgety way. He did not relish the idea of going back in the tunnels, but this was too important. He remembered his promise to Gambit about working the tunnels, but couldn't dismiss his relief that Remy wasn't here. Now that it had come down to it, he didn't want the thief anywhere near here and was glad that no call had been placed to bring him back up for this. Henry had decided the thief was going to have his vacation and kept Remy out of this.

Warren recalled all too vividly his horrific experience here in the tunnels when he lost his real wings. The X-men had come down here, alerted by some Morlocks who had escaped early and warned them that the murderous band of Mauraders were doing the whole place to death. Angel had come along with the group, quite young and a little green. He got separated from the team during the skirmish and got lost. Unfortunately it was a Maurader that found him. He got tagged by a powerful telekinetic who used his power to wrench pipes from the walls. He used the pipes to tack the poor avian mutant to the wall, crushing most of the small bones in his wings. It was a while before he was found, long enough for the damage to be more than his body could bear. It was amputation or death.

The choice was made by his parents and without his consent. They had figured it was a blessing in disguise. Now he would be normal. Little did they know that his wings meant more to him than his own life. Flying was the only thing that truly made him happy. He was devastated and suicidal. Charles came to the rescue, researching the Shi'ar technology he'd been given. There he found hope in a complicated prosthetic. Henry McCoy used the designs to create the wings and restore flight capability to his teammate. It saved his life, Warren would have surely killed himself without them. It didn't mean he was free from ghosts. He was shaking with fear and trembling, still determined not to let this place get the best of him.

Nick Fury gave the signal and they all made ready to depart. The back of the truck flew open and the team of mutants and SHIELD agents streamed out and down into the large sewer opening. Meer was in the lead, held in place with a leash attached to a heavy canvas torso halter made for large dogs. Her new Master, Bob Kenna, was straining his large arm muscles to hold her. He had been invited along to control her and keep her steady. Once Jael's lair was exposed, he would be sent back up with his pilot, their job done.

Wolverine was right behind her, using all of his enhanced senses to sniff out the area and confirm that they were headed in the right direction. This was the place all right, the nose never lies. Like Warren, he was soon lost in a stream of memories. In his mind, he saw these tunnel walls splashed in blood and echoing with the screams of the freshly murdered. The stench had been awful. There had been a pyrokinetic along with the Mauraders and everywhere was the smell of burnt flesh. It hadn't taken the X-men long to catch up with the Mauraders and a huge bloody battle soon followed.

Remy LeBeau was nowhere in sight in Logan's memories, he'd been slashed by Sabretooth almost as soon as the door to the Morlock's realm had been opened and he was now running away, lost in a crowd of fleeing Morlocks. He had wrapped the body of the small child he had grabbed around him and she clung to him in terror, her tiny body the only thing keeping his guts from spilling out over his boots. Not a single X-man ever saw him.

As Wolverine had feared, Creed was right there in the thick of the slaughter, claws out and his face bloody from snacking from his various kills. Of course that sick fuck had be in on this, why wouldn't he be? The two howled in savage challenge as soon as their eyes met and they went to it. It was one of their bloodiest battles. Both didn't hold back and their clothes were in tatters and the water at their feet ran red with blood. It's possible Logan himself might have fallen that day, but he wasn't fighting alone and Creed was soon bested along with his murderous teammates. More than half of them were slain before they fled to areas the X-men couldn't follow.

The Massacre had been one of the worst things Logan had ever seen in his long life. Hundred of helpless Morlocks had been butchered and the mess beyond the ability for a sane person to imagine. Worse than that, Warren had gone missing in the fray. They had gone looking and Wolverine would never forget the sight of poor Angel tacked to the wall like some bizarre, horrible sacrifice. It was more than Jean could bear. She had released him from the wall, weeping freely without being aware of it, and cradled him in her arms, a poor broken bird. She flew away with him, speeding him to safety and the hospital that almost killed his very soul when they amputated his wings.

Wolverine shook his head, trying to force himself back into the here and now. They had to be getting closer, Meer was chirping excitedly and it was growing harder and harder for Bob to control her. Logan and Remy had both gone over this area repeatedly in their previous searches, but never found anything, so it was with some surprise that the line halted rather suddenly, causing a traffic jam in the tunnel behind him and no small amount of cursing and jostling.

Meer had stopped at what appeared to be a solid wall with no opening. She pawed up at it and barked.

Logan grumbled softly when he was gently pushed aside as Fallen squeezed past him to get to Meer. She went up to the tiny pilot and ruffed her head. _**"What's going on, Meer? What is this?"**_

_**"Big Master here."**_

_**"How?"**_

Meer clawed up at the wall and Fallen's fingers traced the cracks there. She found the tiny switch, one no other creature would be able to open --- except perhaps a Master thief had he known what he was looking for and what to do with it once he had found it. Fallen gave the switch a tiny pop of Ristle, an organic key, and the door began to open.

"Get back!" Wolverine snarled, already smelling five or six people lying in wait behind the opening as the rush of air from the other side came through like a vacuum seal being opened. The scent of gun oil and plastic explosives came along as well. So much for not being expected.

"Fire in the hole!" Fallen shouted, still in front and their best defense. She threw up a shield just as a bright glowing bomb came at them. The explosion was horrible and loud, but the worst of the blast came back at the ones who had sent it through. Her shield had returned the plasma grenade like a boomerang.

All Wolverine could remember next was the screaming of their enemies and the smell of burnt flesh and he was back in the Massacre again. He howled and ran forward, popping his claws with a loud metallic snickt! He charged through the opening, leaping over Fallen who now crouched down below him, fearful of his sudden wrath. He found the enemy and slew those that hadn't been killed outright in the blast itself. They clearly hadn't been prepared for Fallen's powerful shield and they had been badly wounded, Logan's claws were a mercy.

He traveled quickly, having only one target in mind. Jael. He could hear the rest of the gang behind him, Fallen flying swiftly to keep up with his pace and back him up. They quickly left the others behind and it was just the two of them now, racing through tunnels with no clue where they were going. He had no fear for Fallen, he recalled the stories of how she had performed bravely on the battlefield. Her response to the immediate threat behind the first door had been extraordinary and he felt a small surge of pride that she was here and working with him as part of this team, even if it wasn't official.

Wolverine ran swiftly, making good progress through long hallways. Here was the place he'd been taken to after his kidnapping, maddening that he'd been so close before. He and Remy had paced by that wall so many times it was almost sickening. He saw many rooms as he traveled through the underground lair, most notably the lab where he'd been taken. The pile of black hologram cubes were still stacked neatly there, he'd seen them in the corner of his eye when he passed by. The halls and rooms were oddly empty, it seemed Jael knew they were coming and had bugged out, hoping the poor saps by the door would buy him enough time to get away. Already, Logan could feel a strange humming through the floor at his feet.

They came abruptly to a huge open space and Logan was shocked to find himself in a large hanger bay, impossible that such a large room could exist under a city without anyone noticing. Off to one side was a large transport, a Dognan transport. Wolverine had no time to wonder why such a large ship would be parked in a room with no exit, there was an all too familiar lion maned man waiting on the ramp. Beside him were two large Siskans, their bright Marks blazing. Both held swords and turned to face him at his uninvited entry.

---------------------

Logan and Fallen weren't the only ones having adventures. The incoming parties had broken up into small groups, spreading out throughout the lair. The place was a warren of tunnels with no easy way to navigate around. Jean, Scott and Angel crept down one such hallway, uncertain. Scott sniffed and made a face. "What's that smell?"

Warren grimaced. "Don't know. Don't want to know."

"It's coming from that door," Scott said. Ahead of them was an opening in the rock face. A wooden door had been fitted there. Remains of a large chain and padlock hung from the front of it. It was open, slightly ajar. Scrawled on the door in old, dried blood was the word GROG.

"Grog? Do I want to know?" Warren sneered, trying to cover his fear. He knew that smell well enough. It was the smell of death.

"Anyone in there, Jean?" Cyclops wanted to know. He had one hand at his visor, ready to fire at any time.

Jean concentrated, using her telepathy to safely probe the room. "I can sense someone there, but I can't tell where. His mental shields are formidable. Be careful."

Scott advanced slowly until he came to the door. The smell was strong now, enough to almost make him gag. He toed the door open and took a step back, letting Warren shine the light from his flashlight inside.

"Jeezus!" Warren gasped, unable to stop himself.

The floor of the room was littered with bones, most of them human judging from the skulls laying about. The smell was overpowering now that the door was open. Flies and other insects buzzed about, creating a small busy cloud.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not going in there, no freakin' way!" Warren complained, retreating further. "If someone's in there, let's just block the door and shut them in."

"I agree," Scott said. He didn't want to go in there either. "Jean?"

Jean came up to the door intending to block it telekinetically and refasten the lock, but as she did so, there came a small plaintive wail from inside. "Helps me, please!"

"Oh, man! That sounded like a little kid!" Warren said, coming forward. No, he didn't want to go in, but the hero in him would get over it.

"It might be a trap," Scott cautioned. "Jean, tell me there's still only one guy in there."

Jean frowned. "No, now there's two."

"Damnit!" Scott hissed, low and under his breath. He wasn't prone to swearing, but this looked like a no win situation. He took a breath and called out. "Hey, kid! Come on out, no one will hurt you."

"The bad man gots me!"

Scott grit his teeth. "Let the kid go, Grog."

"Sheehee...come make me, bright eyes," came a low guttural growl. It was death incarnate, pure evil and malice.

"What do you want? Free passage out of here? You got it, just let the kid go."

"Sheee...I want...I want your flesh in my mouth. Come, bright eyes. Come be my dinner."

"I don't think so, pal!"

"Heesheee...then the squeak will do."

"Eeek! Help me!" the kid screamed, a very real sound. "Eee!" The sound of shredding clothing was also very real.

"Go!" Scott barked and they all rushed forward. Jean was in the front, using a telekinetic pulse to shove whoever was inside back. They came in a hurry, too engrossed in the coming battle to fully realize what they'd walked into. The floor was slimy and slick with blood and excrement. Scott lost his footing almost immediately and went for a nice slide, slipping down onto his back and traveling deeper in without being able to really see where he was going. He hadn't gone three feet when he was grabbed in the dark. Sharp claws slashed out at him, ripping him down the side. Fortunately he was a cautious guy and had been wearing body armor. The claws cut through just the same, they just didn't penetrate him down to the bone. He screamed, he couldn't help it. The pain was enormous.

"Scott!" Jean shrieked and came for him. She was grabbed and viciously tossed, but not before she grabbed a hold of her assailant, bringing them both out tumbling into the hallway and into the light. There was no possible way to describe the freakshow she brought out with her. He was a small human man, possibly a teenager. His hair was blonde or light brown, it was tough to tell. It was waist length and hopelessly tangled, bones and rotting debris clung in it, bringing the horrible smell along with him. His face was bearded, but that long hair was crusted with grime and dried blood. He was completely naked and his skin was slimed with blood and excrement, making him hard to grasp. As if that wasn't bizarre enough, he was wearing a thick leather collar, this was someone's idea of a pet. His hands were bony and small, but there was no mistaking the long jagged claws there. They were shiny now, wet with the blood of Jean's husband. She snarled and tossed him, using some telekinesis to add to his velocity.

Grog hit the wall with a bone crunching thud, but rolled and pounced back to his feet, nimble and quick. He turned and hissed at her, a small bristling bundle of naked feral madness.

"Get back!" Jean shouted, Warren had come out to assist. She raised a shield, safely blocking Grog on the other side.

"What the hell is it!" Angel said, his eyes wide with horror and disgust.

"Trouble! He got up way too fast! He must be a healer!"

"Give it up, furbag! You're toast!" Angel challenged, raising his fists in a useless attempt to intimidate. Grog had other ideas.

"Sheehee...don't think so, much. Heh, heh. Behind ya."

Warren glanced behind him just in time for a foot to connect with his face. Bird met bird in an uneven match. The winged, telekinetic Marcus was here, Shakra right behind. Angel hit the deck hard, out cold.

Shakra advanced on Jean, meeting her eyes. "Back it up, bitch. C'mon, Grog. Time to go."

"Sheehee...lunch still inside."

"Snack later. Let's bail."

"I don't think so," Jean challenged, still holding her ground. She had no idea who the newcomers were, but didn't like the look of Shakra at all. Her body was human, yet purplish and covered in tiny needle like darts. They didn't look too inviting.

"This trash belong to someone?" Marcus cackled, raising Angel's body. He was his usual dapper self, dressed in a dark cavalry shirt cut for his brown feathered wings and his Mohawk haircut was still in place. "Amazing what a person will throw away."

"Tit for tat, Red. What's it gonna be?" Shakra asked, her eyes all confidence and fearlessness. She could take out Jean any time with her poison body darts, but was more interested in rubbing this in her face.

Razel came up from down the hall, huffing from his fast trot. "What's the hold up? Oh! Oh, please!" he snorted. "Grog's still here? I ain't touchin' that sick fuck!"

"He's Jael's toy, got no choice," Shakra said.

The fact that these guys were talking like this was some kind of tea party and not a confrontation did not bode well for Jean. She had to get her team out of this, Angel was down and Scott was bleeding in the filth of the next room.

"Can't we, like, hose him off first?" Razel continued to whine. He walked up to Marcus who was still holding Warren's limp body. "Put that piece of shit down. Time to go."

"Drop your shield," Shakra continued to insist to Jean. "Drop your shield or flyboy comes with us. Razel's a teleporter. If we have to go around, we're not going alone."

Jean was outclassed and outnumbered here on her own. She dropped her shield, but not her guard. Grog trotted by, a grin showing surprisingly healthy teeth considering how filthy the rest of him was. It confirmed his healing factor and Jean couldn't help but wonder if this was some demonspawn of Sabretooth's. He certainly had all of the qualifications. "Later, tasty," he hissed at her as he passed. "Munch, munch."

"Let's go, stinkball," Razel griped. He touched Grog with a fingertip as his passengers gathered around him, not wanting to get any closer. It was his disadvantage that he had to touch those he teleported. He cocked his head at Jean. "Merry Christmas, late."

There was a flash of light and then a ball came flying at her. Jean barely had time to recognize it as a grenade, but her training did not fail her. She caught it in a telekinetic bubble, letting it explode harmlessly if not noiselessly. Angel woke at the noise and groaned on the ground, gripping his face.

A low groan came from inside Grog's former living quarters and the sound of crunching bones.

"Scott!" Jean cried and made for the door.

"I'm okay," he said weakly, stepping out. He was in serious pain, but held the body of a small child against him. Her clothes had been ripped up, but she was otherwise unharmed. She was Grog's lunch, turned into bait, nothing more. Cyclops had kept inside Grog's room, not out of cowardice, but to keep her safe. Jael's people didn't seem to care she was there apparently and he wasn't about to change that. He had wrapped her tiny body in scraps from the floor. As he stepped into the light to better look at her, he scowled when he recognized the Xavier school logo on the cloth. He unwrapped it to see it properly and realized it was pair of hospital pants like the ones Henry used for patients in his infirmary. "Do I want to know?"

Jean looked at it and frowned. "Joseph. Logan said Jael claimed to have killed him."

Scott looked back at the room he just came from. "What kind of sicko keeps a guy like Grog around?" His voice was shaking a little, he didn't want to imaging the little girl he was holding being in there.

"Dognan terrorists, I guess," Jean said, reaching out to take the child from him. The girl was in shock, her eyes wide, but she was calm and quiet. "Let's get out of here."

Angel had risen now, his eyes glassy and unfocused. One whole side of his face was bruised and swelling rapidly. He swayed drunkenly and slurred, "Am I late for class? Ma, shut the oven off, will ya? I can't hear the TV."

"Great," Scott griped, reaching out for him. "Come on, Warren. Looks like you have no luck down here. Hope the others are doing better than us."

They paused as there was a puff of black smoke and then Nightcrawler was there, his eyes gleaming. "Guten tag, you seen Wolvie anywhere? Ve lost ze trail."

Cyclops cocked his head and listened. "Don't hear any screaming. He can't be too close," he joked, Wolverine's reputation for mayhem making that not exactly funny.

"I'm sure he's okay," Jean said, shifting the weight of the child in her arms. "He can take care of himself. In the meantime, how about you give us a lift? Warren's had a nasty knock and Scott's hurt as well."

Kurt grinned at them happily and swished his long pointed tail. "But of course, Fraulein. Four to beam up, Scotty!" he joked and then bamfed them away up to the surface.

-----------------------

"Jael! You sick fuck!" Wolverine howled and charged.

"Herash! Kirstan! Delay them!" Jael shouted to his Guardians.

The two Siskans came forward, swords blazing. Both were men and had large Marks, one brown, the other red. Logan couldn't handle the two swordsmen at once but didn't care. No way was he going to back down and let Jael leave here, not when he was this close.

Logan was met head on by one of the Guardians. His Mark was brown not green and he didn't power up the sword as Zander had, it was merely metal, nothing more. The man swung at him. He was met with claws and there was a loud metal clang in the air. They fought quickly and Logan was cursing. There was no time. He could already hear the rumble of engines as the ship prepared to leave.

Fallen had taken on the other swordsman, trying to use her power to fling him into a wall. Problem was, he was just as telekinetic as she was. She decided another tactic was in order. She let fly with a huge burst of Ristle. The Siskan screamed in agony and exploded, splattering hot gel in all directions. Fallen shrieked in surprise, that she hadn't expected. She didn't think she had let go with that much power, but the poor guy clearly hadn't been able to handle it.

Jael was horrified. He had no idea she was that powerful either and wasn't about to risk losing another precious Siskan. "Herash! Come!"

"Go, Master! I will cover you!" the Siskan replied gallantly, grunting with the effort of fighting and concentrating. Logan was very fast and he had to rush to keep up.

"Fool! I need you with me!"

Herash continued to fight. He was very fast and very skilled, more than a match for Wolverine as long as he maintained his concentration. His Master was ignored. They were stymied in an unwinnable stalemate and Fallen was moving in.

Jael cursed and took out a Dognan energy gun. He muttered under his breath, "Never give a Builder a sword!" before shooting Herash with it, not willing to leave the Guardian behind for someone else to use. Herash screamed and exploded in a burst of red hot gel as his former teammate had done.

Logan was too close. He howled as he was coated with the red hot gel and burned. It was like tar, sticking to him. It was molten lava, melting his flesh.

"Oh, God!" Fallen gasped from nearby and he felt her touch him.

His body was on fire, he was drowning in it. The gel was all over him, it was in his mouth, down his throat and up his nose. He was one huge agony. He couldn't scream, but shuddered violently and passed out.

Fallen's head turned as a small group of people suddenly winked into view. Razel had arrived with his charges. They shouted impatient curses and bolted up the ramp, not even looking back at her.

Jael watched them scamper up the ramp of the Dognan ship, his face in a furious scowl. He'd lost two Siskans this day and he was enraged. "You will pay for this intrusion, pilot!" he shouted at Fallen.

"Bite me, fuck face!" she replied and fired off a blast of Ristle at him.

He ducked, but barely. Fallen was a powerful pilot, well above average in her ability to produce bio-kinetic energy. Her blasts hit the ship, leaving a long black and burnt dent down the side. She'd known right where to fire, she had damaged the engine ports, a serious blow. One more hit and the ship was toast. Jael cursed and fired his gun at her, forcing her to block the blast while he ran away, his eyes wide with fear.

Fallen rose to give chase, but there was a loud rumbling and she looked up just in time to be blinded by a huge pulse of light. Jael had spared no expense and possessed the greatest of teleporters. In a flash he and his big ship were gone, leaving Fallen and Logan alone in the great big empty hanger. Fallen didn't waste time on surprise, she grabbed Logan and flew off, looking for anything to help him.

-----------------------------

Wolverine woke a short time later. He was shaking and trembling, still badly burned. This was worse than when Sabretooth had set him on fire. That time he had been near water and had been able to douse himself quickly. Not so this time. Fallen had carried him off, but had to travel a while before she'd found some water. Even then, he hadn't actually been on fire, he was covered in thick molten liquid. She had to scrape the gel from him, burning herself in the process. She was next to him now in the SHIELD ambulance, her hands bandaged. In spite of her wounding, she held one of his hands in her own, her face tight with worry.

"Hey, kiddo," he managed, sending an ache all down his throat. He was eerily reminded of that time she had come to him after he'd been so badly stabbed on the Lucky Dragon. It had been nice to feel her touch then and it was nice to feel it now.

"Hey, tough guy," she whispered, grateful to hear his voice. It meant he was okay.

Logan was sitting up on a gurney, stripped down and a blanket placed over his lap for privacy. The attendants had been told that he was a mutant and to simply let him lie comfortable until his skin had a chance to heal up some. Logan was lucky, his jacket and leather pants kept the worst of the gel off of him. He'd been burned mainly on his face and torso. His face was red and peeling, but ten times better than when he'd been brought out here just a short time ago.

"He awake yet?" Nick grumbled pleasantly, coming inside the ambulance. The back doors had been left open and he'd been waiting just outside.

"Yes," Fallen said and moved over so the Head of SHIELD could sit next to her.

Nick looked over Logan with his one good eye. "You look like shit. Gotta stop making a habit out of this. What is it with you and these Siskan guys anyway?"

Logan grunted a laugh and rasped. "You get him?"

"Jael? Nah. That would be too lucky. Rounded up a bunch of his guys, though. Took in a large store of weapons, explosives. Got about six million in gold and jewels. Food for the anti-terrorist fund."

"The guy who fought me...the Guardian?"

Fallen shook her head. "There was no time to try and salvage him. You were lucky I got you out on time. Looks like Jael doesn't want to share."

"Kimble?"

Fallen gave his hand another squeeze. "There was no sign, Sabretooth must still have him."

"Won't let Jael get him," Logan promised. "Gonna find Creed b'fore he gets bored and turns him over. You can count on it."

"You guys looking for Creed? Why didn't you say so? He's up in Maine somewhere with Mary Green," Nick said. "That's our last intel anyway. He's been moving around a lot. Really, you guys should have come to us sooner with this."

"You know us, always doin' things the hard way," Logan answered, his smile giving nothing away. They had known this already thanks to Seth, but he wasn't about to let Nick know that the X-men had their heads that far into the SHIELD's computer system.

"Well, we don't expect Creed to stay up there long. Word is, he took contract on the Friends of Humanity Rally that's coming up in a couple of weeks."

"What Rally?" Cyclops asked from the open door of the ambulance. Jean was standing next to him and both were dirty from the tunnels and fighting. Scott had been bandaged up and was standing easy. He really needed stitches but was going to wait and let Henry do it later, he had no desire to go to a hospital. They asked too many questions and mutants were not always well received, even if they were injured for a good cause.

"You guys slay me," Nick joked humorlessly at him. "There's a big Friends of Humanity Rally that will take place in Yankee stadium, about three weeks from now. Word is that Sabretooth is going to crash the party but no one has a clue how he's going to do it. We gave the Humanity the warning but they don't care. They say any violence only furthers their cause, the dumb fucks."

"We gotta do something," Scott said, prompting Nick to roll his eyes.

"Can't stop what you can't foresee. We have no idea what he's got planned."

"Can't see, huh?" Fallen said, a small smile on her lips.

"What?" Logan grunted.

"Me and Seth can whip up some cloaks. We fan out in the crowd, in and outside of the stadium. Set up some telekinetics up high on lookout. The Humanity guys don't have to know we're there."

Logan grinned in spite of his pain. "Yer thinkin' like an X-man more an' more every day." He gave Scott a nod. "Best git a hold of the Cajun. We're gonna need him fer this."

To be continued in Checkmate.


End file.
